Black and White
by ShiningMoon
Summary: COMPLETE. Sequel to Anaugust Gold. After Vejata's death, Goku and Vegeta must deal with the repercussions of their interactions with her - and each other. But their peace may not last long...
1. 01

NOTE: This story is the third and final installment of this series involving Vejata (Queen Vegeta), which starts with Red Window and Anaugust Gold. Please read these (in that order - you can find them on my profile page) before you read this one, or it won't make any sense at all. If you've read the other two, I'm so glad you've come back, and thank you so much for your continued interest! As always, your thoughts are very much appreciated. Now that I'm back in school, things might come a bit slower, and there's nothing like a nice review to motivate me to get going with the next chapter!

I hope you enjoy this story!

...

"Boy."

He shook at the voice, but continued working on his homework.

"Trunks."

This time he looked up. "What do you want, Dad?"

Vegeta paced around to stand beside his son at his place at the table. "I—I think you want to talk about something," he muttered, glancing to the side awkwardly; however skilled he was at projecting confidence in any other situation, he always faltered with his son when serious matters were at hand.

"What makes you think that?" he mumbled into his assignment, scrawling down more numbers and keeping his eyes averted.

"Well—" the prince paused. He'd guessed at what his son and Goten had been discussing that day—beside the glowing dragon balls that had brought him back to Earth from being stranded on New Vegeta. One moment, Vegeta had been face to face with the woman who had dared share his name, and more—who had then disgraced it, with what she had done to Goku—one moment, he had been face to face with _her_; the next, he was crushing the royal medallion—she was bleeding, then dead, and she got what she deserved. But there was Trunks—so near tears. A sinking stomach told Vegeta that he knew why. "You're acting differently."

"No shit."

"Language, boy."

"Whatever."

Vegeta took a seat and pulled Trunks' homework away, glancing over it. It was covered in problems—just math. No musings of techniques, no scribblings of strategies. Trunks reached for it, and Vegeta slid it further away, to his other side. "Talk."

"Dad, I really don't wanna—"

"_Now_."

...

Goku suppressed his _ki_ as he heard quiet discussion nearby, hoping no one had noticed and that they wouldn't think he was intruding. He had decided to teleport to somewhere near Vegeta's _ki_, but not too close, both out of normal practice—he was now certain that he had seen Bulma naked more times than he could count, which was to say, at least ten—and because he and Vegeta had spent some weeks apart, hardly communicating.

Things had gotten better between them—but still, any time Goku visited Vegeta since he had been brought back from New Vegeta, he had seemed thoughtful, introverted. The prince would shift in discomfort at Goku's presence, and Goku could tell that he was biting back words. What the words were, Goku wasn't sure—but Vegeta certainly hadn't been unkind to him, so they couldn't have been too bad. There was something Vegeta wanted to tell him, to be certain—but he had never been good at guessing at this type of thing, so Goku opted to err on the side of caution, hoping desperately that he wouldn't accidentally upset Vegeta and send him into another whirl of rage, another gap of time in which they wouldn't see each other. Still, he ached to spar again—Goten's drive to train with him had died down substantially of late, as he spent more and more time having quiet, private discussions with Trunks.

But this time, Goku noticed as he listened around the corner, it was Vegeta having a quiet, private discussion with Trunks. He'd told himself that if he'd teleported into the middle of something that wasn't his business, he'd leave and wait at the front door—his usual policy, after Bulma suggested it to him one evening, nudging him away from yet another awkward situation—but he caught the words before he could turn away to leave.

"It's...I...I just thought," Trunks was mumbling, and Vegeta watched with careful eyes. "I thought you were, y'know, _better_. Better than them. You got better, right? Mom told me about how you were when you first started living on Earth, but—you have _us_ now, and..."

Peeking subtly around the corner as he hid his hair behind an ornamental palm tree, Goku saw Vegeta nod, swallowing.

"And those other Vegetas," now Trunks seemed to swallow, with substantial effort, "when Goten and I fought them." Goku raised his eyebrows, waiting—was this what his and Vegeta's sons had been discussing all this time? "They were brutal—I—I—"

"I saw," Vegeta rasped quietly, "from Hell." He placed a hand against Trunks' shoulder for a moment, but pulled it away quickly, picking up a pencil from the table and flicking it between his uneasy fingers. Goku felt his eyes stinging as he remembered the sight of his own son's death, the violent stomach wound. He had never died in such a disfigured state, slowly, conscious, young and afraid, and suddenly felt much younger than his son.

"Vejata, it was her fault it happened," Trunks spoke quietly. Vegeta seemed to accept this. "And I heard how she killed you—in that awful way."

"It was quick," Vegeta admitted. Goku scratched at his neck—his death at Vejata's hands had been quick, too—faster than he could realize what was going on.

"But when you fought her," Trunks continued, "when you fought her, you didn't do it quick. And you didn't just beat her up—she—she—" he took a breath in slowly, chest shaking, "I didn't think you would ever...d-_do_ that...Dad..."

Vegeta sat still, ribcage rising and falling steadily.

"It was so ugly...it was just as bad as the other Vegetas." Trunks bit his lip as he turned to look his father in the eyes. "You're as bad as them—aren't you?"

The prince stood abruptly, and Goku felt Vegeta's _ki_ spike as he lost control of it momentarily. He shoved the chair back against the table roughly, turning away from Trunks. Vegeta flexed his fingers and glanced over one arm—the arm that Trunks had lost, lips twitching as he attempted to restrain a growl, but it still made its way through his teeth.

But as Vegeta remained still in this position, Goku replayed Trunks' words—was Vegeta really as bad as the copies that had wreaked havoc on their section of the universe? Certainly Vegeta had killed his share of innocents, but— Then, Vejata was bad, too, for different reasons; she had tricked Goku and used him in the last way that he would have thought possible, willingly destroying their friendship—well, he was pretty sure it had been a friendship. Goku shivered—was still disturbed that even now he did not regret not wishing Vejata back to life. It was scary—to know that his well of forgiveness was not bottomless.

Was everyone who was like Vegeta destined to be evil in some way? Trunks was right—even now, Vegeta was capable of doing terrible things. Could any amount of time in peace, on Earth, undo the possibility that he would do something like this again? If this was Vegeta's natural state—perhaps he should have tried harder, to forgive Vejata, if she couldn't help it, her ghastly acts.

"I don't know, Trunks," Vegeta finally whispered, snapping Goku back to the scene before him. Vegeta was still turned away from his son, who was looking desperately into the back of his father's head. "I'm sorry." Trunks bit his lip, trying to steel his gaze. The prince took a few more deep breaths and strode toward the doorway. Goku watched as he approached, and as Vegeta began to round the corner, he realized—

"Kakarotto," Vegeta snarled, though quietly, his voice still subdued from his words with his son. "I ought to slam you to the other side of the universe. Have you ever heard of privacy?"

"S-sorry," Goku stuttered, frozen to the wall. "It was an accident, I—"

"I felt you appear," he muttered, "and I thought I felt you disappear, too."

"M-masked my _ki_," Goku admitted. "I'm...I'm really sorry, Vegeta, if I had known I—"

"Fuck, Kakarrot," he hissed, "I don't care." When he turned to face the man, Goku noticed that Vegeta's eyes were pained, glassy. "I don't give a damn what you do."

"Vegeta," Goku whispered, swerving down the hallway that lead to the gravity room in the hopes that Vegeta would follow. He did. "I just, I want you to know I'm real sorry. That was a personal moment, and—"

"My own goddamn son calling me out as a monster—yes, very personal," Vegeta snapped. "Get over your sentiment and move on. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

"Look, Vegeta," Goku persisted, pausing at the gravity room door. Unconsciously, Vegeta punched in the code to open it, and before he realized what he was doing, meandered in. Goku followed, copying the pattern to close the door. "I—I kinda get it. I ain't such a good dad myself—"

"Dammit, Kakarrot, but the difference is that I _tried_—" Vegeta slammed one fist against the wall, clenching it tightly. Goku dialed the gravity up, and with its increase, the prince seemed to calm slightly. "You show up after seven years and they take you back into their arms. It took me eight years of swallowing my pride down and two unbelievably powerful enemies before I managed to _hug_ the boy."

"He knows you love him," Goku smiled, leaning against the console, struggling not to pat Vegeta on the shoulder to comfort him.

"I've failed him," Vegeta breathed slowly. "After all the trouble of deciding to try—I was almost—better—he—he was hardly around when I let Babadi bring out my power," he sighed, "he never really saw it. And that—was different to him—this I did of my own volition..."

Goku bit his lip. "Say, yeah, what did you do, exactly?"

"I killed Vejata," Vegeta strode over to the console as well, to dial the gravity past where Goku had put it. He paused beside the man. "Much more slowly and painfully than was necessary to get the job done."

"And it reminded him of when..."

"Yes."

"Vegeta," Goku finally laid one arm across the man's shoulders. "It'll be okay. He'll forgive you, sometime. You know, I'll bet it means a lot to him that you really decided to put your whole self into being a better guy for him."

"Would you forgive me—if you were him?" Vegeta ducked away from Goku, beginning to throw punches into the air. They were sloppy, Goku noticed, and poorly paced, in Vegeta's turmoil.

Goku opened his mouth to say yes, of course—but paused as he remembered Vejata, the finiteness of his mercy. Vegeta paused his motions to stare as Goku struggled to form the right words. "I—I don't know."


	2. 02

"So did you lead me in here to spar you?" Vegeta seemed worn already as his weight—increased beneath the gravity—pressed against the console.

One corner of Goku's mouth turned down a bit. "I wanted to, but I guess you're not quite in the condition to, right now." He pushed off from where he leaned against the console to pace a bit, feeling restless as his mind wandered. "Look, Vegeta—I know we've been pretty low-key about this an' all, and I ain't tryin' to make you feel uncomfortable but—I wanna know something."

Vegeta's brows creased and he exhaled slowly. "Hell. Whatever. Ask away. Maybe you'll make me angry enough to fight you."

"I really don't wanna do that," Goku's face was much more sober than Vegeta was used to seeing it, although it had often been like that since his resurrection. "I only wanna fight if you want to, for fun—not—I don't wanna make you mad. You're upset enough, Vegeta."

"Just ask the damn question." Goku's continued seriousness was beginning to put him on edge—it narrowed down the possible topics of the conversation to just one or two.

"You seem real, I dunno, thoughtful lately."

"Trunks," Vegeta responded simply.

"That all?" his voice was quiet, as unobtrusive as it could be as Goku wandered to the other side of the room.

"What Vejata did to you," he added, equally quietly.

"Yeah?"

He turned to face Goku, eyes steeled. "I'm sorry to share a name with her, and sorrier to share her blood." He hoped that Goku would not recognize the hypocrisy of his statement—he'd done far worse, himself.

"'S not your fault, Vegeta," Goku turned away. "And you know it." He paused. "So that's all you've been thinkin' about? You just seem so nervous, is all, around me, and I was thinkin' it must have to do with—"

"Yes, dammit," he hissed, "of course it has to do with _that_."

"So y' still really don't like the idea of—I mean—is it 'cause—"

Vegeta paced over to where Goku was, stopping beside them, although they did not make eye contact. "Kakarrot, I, however unfortunately, decided years ago that I consider you an ally. But hear you me—it does not mean you can get however close to me you please."

"So it's—it 'cause I'm _me_, right? It's not 'cause—not 'cause a' that I'm, y'know, a 'low-class' or nothin' like that?"

"Correct," Vegeta growled.

"Well I'm not gonna do nothin' to you, Vegeta, so you shouldn't be nervous." He knit his brows. "I'd never do anything bad like that, an' you know it. So what're you so worried about?"

"Kakarrot—you love your wife, don't you?" Goku's eyebrows shot up at the question as he puzzled over its meaning, how it could be related to what he'd asked.

"S-sure—I mean, sure we don't always get along, but, of course I do—what're you—"

"Ever thought about why?" 

"Well firs' we got married and I didn't know what was goin' on, but she dragged me through it, I guess," Goku started, glancing toward the ceiling. "She's always real good at that, makin' me do stuff. She's nearly as stubborn as you, Ve—"

"Right," Vegeta cut him off. "Women here are weak, but yours and mine have got balls." Goku opened his mouth to correct the prince, but Vegeta continued, "It's a figure of speech, Kakarrot—damn, and I haven't been here nearly as long as you." His eyes wandered upward as he thought. "They're an awful lot like—" he paused, searching for the word.

"Fire," Goku finished quietly, smiling faintly at the thought.

"The hottest fire this planet's got to offer," Vegeta finished. "Are you following me, Kakarrot?"

He shook his head. "Naw, I don't think so. Unless—you mean like, like how they do all that crazy stuff?"

"Almost—well, you said it yourself," Vegeta finally turned his head to glance at Goku's face. "Your woman is good at 'making you do stuff.' You're a thousand times stronger than she is—but you do it."

"Maybe she's stronger than we think," Goku grinned.

"You like that about her—don't you? How much power she seems to have, even over you?"

"Yeah," Goku mused. "Guess so. Sure do."

"The Saiyajin—at least before—were getting stronger, every generation. I suppose that freaks like you and I should be born out of it is unsurprising."

"Stronger every generation?" Goku blinked. "Why? Did they train their kids more?"

Vegeta shook his head. "We are warriors—by our essence, geared to become as strong as we can. You know it well—your excitement to fight." 

"Yours, too," Goku laughed. "It's not just me!"

"Of course," Vegeta smirked a little at the man's laughter. His expression grew neutral again. "But no—it wasn't by training. Part of what has made us Saiyajin—powerful and brutish, not so delicate and—well—_pretty_—as the humans—is how we choose those with whom we reproduce."

"Y-yeah?" Goku blinked. "How's that?"

Vegeta frowned a bit, thinking. "Kakarrot, would you not say that around here, a woman's beauty is made of things like whether she is," he made a motion with his hands to describe a shape, "like this, or, hm—whether her eyes look nice—yes?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "I dunno."

"But Saiyajin, we don't tend to care so much about pretty eyes—beauty is strength. Power."

Goku nodded slowly, as if the cogs in his mind were still working on what Vegeta was talking about and how it could possibly relate to what they were talking before—whatever it was. What had his question been?

"So with this tendency to mate with the strongest Saiyajin we could find, the strongest became stronger," he added, hoping to clarify. "And the weak died off."

Nodding, Goku crossed his arms. "Okay. So you're tryin' t' say I like Chi because she's pretty strong for a human, an' she can make me do stuff?"

Vegeta grumbled, shaking his head. "Well, yes—but Kakarrot—"

"Hm?" he raised his eyebrows, leaning back against the wall.

"I believe," he paused, fingers twitching nervously, and the length of the silence stretched on for a while. Goku scratched his head absently until Vegeta finally finished, "It is why you feel the way you do about me."

"Oh!" Goku grinned, excited at this revelation—how long had he spent wondering why he had such feelings for the man who considered him a rival, which had sprung up apparently from nowhere? "'Cause you're real strong!" His eyes grew wide. "But Vegeta, I'm pretty sure two guys can't even have babies together. It's like Chi said—"

Once more, Vegeta shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Didn't matter in the scheme of things." Goku seemed utterly baffled, so he spoke further. "Saiyajin don't always take just one mate—some do, but many don't. You gather two or three, odds are there's one you can reproduce with. What's more," he paused, "I suppose it was a way to bunch up the strongest all together." The prince exhaled. "I might know more about it—if the planet had lasted longer."

"Yeah? But hey, how'd y' know if you were real little when—"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Nappa and Raditsu's constant whining."

"Oh—okay," Goku nodded. "All right. Only, Vegeta—" the prince bit his lip, waiting for the question he'd been dreading—but it didn't come. "If that's true, if Saiyajin are like that, how come you don't have some extra wives or somethin'?"

Vegeta smirked a little. "Don't need any—my woman's the best there is," he bragged, but then his face grew more solemn. "Besides, you know how I feel about her. I don't want to fuck this up."

"Okay," Goku seemed thoughtful. "Okay. So—so you're tryin' to say I feel kinda weird an' fuzzy about you 'cause you're strong, an' the whole reason for that is that I'm a Saiyajin, 'cause Saiyajin feel fuzzy about strong people—and—an' besides that you don't feel like that yourself, you ain't interested anyway 'cause of Bulma." Vegeta nodded, and Goku smiled, glad that he understood, but he paused just as he was about to start stretching. "Say, though—I feel fuzzy 'bout you 'cause you're strong." Vegeta froze. "But ain't I stronger than you? Why don'tcha got that fuzzy feeling about me?"

Vegeta's crossed arms squeezed tighter against him, and he rapped his fingers anxiously against his bicep. He shot Goku a narrow-eyed glare before turning away, walking back to the console as he uncrossed his arms and balled his fists. "Do you want to spar, or not?"

...

Hell had lived up to its name, and it was nothing she hadn't experienced already. The game was avoiding boredom—they said if one became too complacent, just _gave up_, they'd be taken away to the machine that would scrub their soul up and spit it back into the world as someone else. That was the real Hell—deciding between endlessly remembering and losing oneself forever.

She had stayed to herself for some time—carefully replaying everything that she remembered about her life, to continue remembering it. It had ended at a low point, to be sure—but now she was, at least, free of _that _obligation, to rule her planet. She had glimpsed other Saiyajin here and there—many, doubtless, sent here by none other than herself. But she avoided them, the trouble of whatever useless attacks they would spill upon her for revenge. Here in Hell, it seemed, none of the dead could be killed again. Beaten badly, yes—even beyond recognition—but none ever died for a second time. She wondered if such a thing was possible—what would happen if a dead man was killed again. There were theories floating about, to be sure—but not one that she'd heard was believable.

There was a palpable tension in some parts of Hell, and she wondered if this was the norm—if it had been rigged that way, that passers-through would second-guess decisions to walk any farther. So much as she could figure it, Hell was a wasteland where the stubborn and the sinful needed only to put up with one another until they could be safely disposed of—sent back into the living world. Still, some powerful magic seemed afoot—what else would keep someone from dying a second time, if such a thing was truly impossible here? And what else but magic could hold these monsters in? But then—the dragon balls were worse, for they could rip someone from the afterlife without its consent, and they were so accessible—

But not from Hell, of course. And if she could be wished back, well—it seemed pointless. Vegeta would find her, kill her again. There was one thought that rang through her head—something about the medallion, the prince crushing it, something that she should have done in the living world, if she'd had the chance. But she pushed it back, whatever it was; the last thing she wanted now was to regret. She needed merely to remember—nothing more, and anything more would surely be a burden.

It was surprisingly easy to spend time alone in Hell—it was vast, and Vejata wandered it all as she recalled her life, committing each piece to memory. Perhaps after she'd etched it all into her—permanently—she would re-enter the more populated portions of Hell, take on those who wanted to fight her. No good memories awaited her there, not really—acquaintances readily betrayed the moment they proved to pose a risk, just as King Vegeta had taught her.

She'd not gotten far in her systematic recollection of her life, for all the months she'd had to think about it. The later years of her life had been so much easier to recall than the beginning, so she had started there. Hearing that Prince Vegeta might still be alive—searching for him for years on end—ten of them, on that man's Earthling clock, she supposed—training relentlessly all the while, and then hunting him down, killing him. But she'd been dragged into something bigger—Goku's insistence on getting to know her, on bringing the prince back—discovering the destruction of her home, and if she'd known then how much grief it would have caused her, perhaps she'd have cut her losses and left it that way. But no—she couldn't have. She was bound to it, to do everything she could for it; it was the very reason she had been created, anyway—a recreation of the most promising warrior to emerge from her line, the best candidate for ruler. Then there had been the six younger copies—and how foolish of her not to have considered the idea earlier—her ascension to Super Saiyajin, glorious, then, but she was not the first, and it did lead to such misery; her return home; her boredom, desperation, desperate acts that were useless, that failed her; her death and her freedom, and now it was boredom again. But without the obligation, well—it was more bearable, for now. She was sure she would feel differently as years ticked by, if the nervous tics of the other residents of Hell were any indication.

The beginning of her life, though—it was tough. Not unpleasant, no—King Vegeta was harsh, but she'd learned from him. The beginning of her life was, at points, pure joy—hours of sparring, and as much as she could eat waiting for her when she returned. It was before King Vegeta had taught her such paranoia of food. It was before he taught her other things, too, that kept her alive after she took the throne.

It was only fitting, then, that what she dreaded remembering most would find her itself, on the emptiest outskirts of what seemed to be considered Saiyajin territory.


	3. 03

"Vegeta."

Only one person addressed her that way—no title, and her real name. It had been years. Vejata froze, her breath hitching as she struggled not to turn around. She would never be ready to face this—had gotten by in life banking on that the idea of Hell was bullshit, that she was gone and would never be again.

The voice wasn't icy—was hot with anger that it burned after fermenting for two decades in Hell. "Turn your ass around and face me," there was a fierce growl, and as it ripped through the air it tore Vejata's voice from her throat. If she turned around and looked, she would surely go blind as well. "Well? If you've got the nerve to show up around here you can at least—"

She would have snapped back—to keep hold of her pride, or what of it remained. But she was not Prince Vegeta, was not stubborn for stubbornness' sake, and certainly, now, had nothing left to lose—not really. Words quivered at the edge of her tongue—some sharp, most not.

Behind her there was silence, and a brief flicker of _ki_ that she was too slow to interpret, and too slow to react to—she was pinned against the ground, a bright orb of energy in the corner of her eye, fingers tangled through her hair that held her head up, but more immediately, her eyes were pinned to the face before her, nearly nose-to-nose with her. She wasn't blinded—but damn close. Everything was blurred—important things: sharp eyes and sharper teeth, wild tufts of hair, whipping tail.

"You think I'd forget about it, huh?" came the choking snarl from the figure straddled over her.

"No," Vejata whispered.

"Shit—I come here and _that's_ the last thing I have to think about? Can't even enjoy those good things; you undid 'em all." A pause. "Maybe I'd be gone now, if I wasn't so pissed at you."

"I wasn't expecting to see you," the words rasped from Vejata's throat. "Ever again."

"Should've planned better, then, huh? What, and I guess you went on to a pretty great life after you did it, didn't you? Betcha never thought again about it, betcha—"

Vejata mouthed some words, swallowing a lump in her throat that must have been filled with needles, so painfully it scraped its way down, only to bob back up. "Shallot, I—" no reason to hold back now, nothing left anyway—this was _Hell_, and beneath this inferno, she was feeling it—"I'm sorry." Her lips pulled back to reveal her teeth in a grimace, a last-ditch attempt to hold onto wishes that she would never regret, never second-guess. But if one thing had stung her, it had been this, this woman—by all appearances twenty years younger than she, though they had been the same age then—and what Vejata had done to her. The returning burn of guilt, so unfamiliar in Vejata's throat, bid her to wonder if her gut was heaving itself into her mouth—but no, it was the forgotten images of the two of them, memories that had been dropped to the back of her mind for as long as Vejata could help it, now wielding their monstrous weight. They were images of training, sparring, new techniques, secrets shared behind castle walls: words and lips, tactics and battles, bruising blows and something softly blooming—a friend for the fragile moment she realized she had neither mother nor father; herself a soft wall when the King had done away with Shallot's father.

"Well you can't apologize yourself outta Hell." The woman leaned in close, and Vejata closed her eyes against the burning that arose within as Shallot's body—soft in few places: hair, chest, lips, but these sufficiently soft to make up for the hardness of her stomach, legs, eyes—pressed against hers. They were so close, and she could not look away.

"I know," Vejata muttered, still pinned.

"Vegeta," she drew closer, eyes still narrowed, deadly, "why'd you do it?" Shallot pressed closer still, nearly lying atop Vejata, ball of _ki_ now held a hair's breadth away from Vejata's ear. "Why'd you kill me?"

"The King," Vejata breathed, "instructed me to. His reasoning was sound—"

"Reasoning!" she spat, the volume of her voice causing Vejata to flinch. "Bullshit. Saiyajin don't reason. You really did it for that old man?"

No—yes—no. "It—he—made—I don't know," her eyes finally locked with Shallot's. It had been bad enough then, facing the king's advice, that she do such a thing to the girl-turned-woman she couldn't remember ever not knowing. But afterward, as she discovered slowly that she would never have again what she had had one time—crushed beneath the infectious paranoia of the man who referred to himself as her father, the lessons he had taught her—she had forced it from her mind. Only Bulma, with her familiar fiery spirit, winsome vulgarity, her frightening strength of will, had jerked back to the surface nostalgia of what had been. When faced with the same dilemma—_kill her; it makes sense_—she could not do it, not this time around. "It was—I didn't..._know_." Shallot frowned, dissatisfied. The queen clenched her fists into the soil beneath as the other woman remained silent. "Well, what do you want me to tell you?" now the volume of Vejata's voice rose in anger, "Shallot, it was the biggest goddamn mistake of my life, all right?" She breathed heavily, and Shallot watched, waiting, still pinning her down. "Nothing much I regret about what I did while I was living—nothing much at all—but—"

Shallot leaned in closer, raising her eyebrows.

"Fuck, Shallot, does it make you feel better to hear it?" Vejata hissed, and the woman remained motionless, watching, rage flickering through her eyes, ready to set her ablaze if she did not like what followed. "Fine—I fucked up," she paused, "and I'm offended you ever thought for a second that I wouldn't regret it."

The _ki_ next to Vejata's head flickered away, but took its time in doing so. Shallot tilted her head away and lowered it until it was in line with Vejata's. "Y' hadn't ever killed anyone like that before me—had you, Vegeta?" she whispered into her ear.

Vejata shook her head, and her cheek nudged against Shallot's.

"I hope you got better," and the hot breathing into Vejata's ear sounded like derisive chuckling. She felt the sensation that her chest was too tight—ribcage shrunk and lungs couldn't hold enough. "Hurt like a bitch. Or," her voice darkened, "is that what you intended?"

Vejata shook her head again, this time leaving her cheek pressed to Shallot's. "We're both dead now," she muttered after what may have been minutes, and added, "neither of us under pleasant circumstances." A few more breaths rattled in and out of her too-tight lungs. "Now listen close, because I'm only asking once. We've got an awful long time down here and so you'd better answer what you mean for good."

"'An awful long time'—says _you_," Shallot spat. "All right, what?"

"Forgive me."

Shallot's brows knit, and she seemed, for the first time, to realize her closeness to Vejata. She drew herself back up into a seated position, still over Vejata, and crossed her arms, observing the woman beneath her critically. "Well, shit. And I can't decide later?"

"Now, or I never want to see your sorry ass again," Vejata pleaded, her voice soft.

"That's hardly fair," Shallot breathed, and she noticed the desperation as it crawled across the queen's face. At this her frown deepened, and Vejata caught herself and carefully returned her expression to neutrality. A spark of an idea seemed to hit her eye, and she smirked a bit.

As her teeth glimmered from beneath her lips, pulled back now into a feral grin, Vejata's eyes lightened to a chilling cyan. Her hair lifted and turning yellow as gold flames licked her body and brushed against Shallot's. The other woman's eyes widened, and every shred of sense in her that told her to leap aside was whipped away in the wind that whirled around them. Every muscle that squirmed inside her told Shallot to touch, and so—she placed one hand against either side of Vejata's face to feel its burning heat. "Well, now I don't even got a choice," her voice rippled from her throat, a velvety purr, "Vegeta, you underhanded bitch."

...

"You know what, Vegeta?" Goku wiped the sweat from his brow, and Vegeta did the same. Sparring in the gravity room was always a challenge—the careful balance between a ferocious fight and not destroying the machine or any adjacent pieces of the residence. Vegeta recalled fondly Bulma's rage when she had discovered, years back, an entire segment of her lab lacking several of its walls. She had since moved it to the basement—on the opposite side of the compound—and for this Vegeta was glad, because while he had certainly enjoyed the recklessness that came with her anger, he had not enjoyed the ensuing period in which she ignored him completely.

"No, I don't," Vegeta grunted, but he smirked a little as Goku laughed at his response.

"You know what I was gonna do on New Vegeta?"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. He hadn't considered that the man might have had something in mind when he went there—hadn't thought much at all about New Vegeta besides bitter recollection of being stranded there, and thought of what had happened to Goku—seeing his body, frozen.

"I was thinking I could find some of the pretty strong Saiyajin, y'know, and train 'em. Maybe they can go Super Saiyajin, too!"

Vegeta opened his mouth to scoff at the idea, but one of his better memories made him pause, and he crossed his arms. "Are you trying to say that's what you want to go do now?" he guessed. "Kakarrot, can't you stay on the damn planet for at least a _few _years at a time?"

"Man, Vegeta," Goku chortled, "Never woulda thought I'd hear _you _say that!" He grinned, and slung an arm around Vegeta, who, worn from their match, halfheartedly removed it. "You can come along, 'course. I was hoping you would! Maybe you can, y'know, tell me more about the Saiyajin. An' help me train 'em, and all."

"I would say," Vegeta started, "that I couldn't care less about them right now. But," Goku's eyes lit up, "there is _one_ interesting thing I found in my time there—while I was stranded." Vegeta shifted his weight uneasily, enthusiasm fading with each second his statement was left to cool down. He shouldn't have mentioned it—would now be obligated to go, too, to sate his curiosity, and Goku knew it. He grimaced; time alone with Goku was the last thing he needed. But their most recent sparring match had been refreshing—he was feeling better, now, and more in control. The incident with Trunks—the worry that his being tugged toward Goku was inevitable—were both things he could deal with, and conquer, he decided, as he mopped up a stream of blood that trickled down his arm.

"What'd you find?" Goku was nearly bouncing, despite that Vegeta was sure he had been worn to near-collapse minutes ago.

"Well," Vegeta's mouth twitched, "I'll tell you about it if you promise that the instant I want to leave New Vegeta, you'll bring me back."

"'Course," Goku grinned. "I can do that." He blinked and noticed Vegeta unlocking the door and exiting. "Hey! What're you doing?"

"Telling Bulma," he called from around the corner. "Just wait here."

Goku shrugged, laughing. "What an impulsive guy."


	4. 04

NOTE: Many thanks to those who left reviews! I appreciate your thoughts immensely and they often serve to help motivate me to get going on the next chapter (sometimes against my better judgment - how many times have I put off my quantum homework in favor of writing this, only two weeks into the semester? - but it's worth it!). I hope anyone who's reading this is enjoying it, and if you have any particular thoughts or critique, I'd love to hear it. By the way, if you want to take a look at art that I have drawn for/about this story, check out the links on my profile page; I just added a new piece last night. You can also find art from Red Window and Anaugust Gold there.

...

"Vegeta? You sure you're ready to leave, y'know, now?" Goku scratched his head as the man returned, walking with resolve in his step. "I mean, this is like the sorta thing—"

"That _you _would do," he huffed, leaning against the wall. "I know. Look, Kakarrot, you already promised to bring me back the instant I want to leave, and I know you better than to think you'd betray my," he paused, and grumbled, glancing downward, "trust."

"Naw," Goku grinned. "No way I would." His face grew more solemn. "'Specially not now I know the feeling so much myself."

"I don't want to be stranded there again."

"You won't be."

"And Kakarrot?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't say or do anything—" he lowered his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth until he was glaring.

"Vegeta, 's all fine. Don't worry. I never woulda before, but I'll remind y' again now; I think I kinda know the feeling. I won't do nothin' you don't want, all right?" He blinked to find Vegeta's hand against his shoulder, and raised his eyebrows, confused.

"Well?" Vegeta snapped. "Are we going, or aren't we?"

Goku grinned, nodding vigorously. "Yeah! I think I can find a _ki_ there..." he focused for one second, two, and then they disappeared.

...

"Shit!" the boy leapt back, and as he gazed upon Goku, he leapt back even farther. "_Y-you_ again?" he stuttered, legs spread awkwardly as he attempted to take a defensive stance and simultaneously scoot away from the area. "You get the hell away from me!" his voice cracked as he spoke. "Super Saiyajin!"

"Whoa," Goku threw his hands out to the sides. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I didn't last time, did I?"

The boy shook his head, but his legs shook with it, and he bolted down the unpaved pathway that stretched farther into the town beside which they had appeared.

Vegeta raised his eyebrows. "What did you _do_?"

"Went Super Saiyajin," Goku shrugged.

"And they're scared of it," Vegeta mumbled, reminding himself. "Because of their fucked-up queen."

"Well," Goku crossed his arms. "She ain't their queen now, and it's about time I teach them t' _not_ be afraid of it." He glanced around the area. "Thing is, I dunno where to start." He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying not to arouse alarm as other Saiyajin meandered past, carrying dead animals and brush and other things Goku could not identify over their shoulders. Each glanced at him momentarily, to see if they could guess at why the young man had run off. Most seemed to shrug it off after a moment; the gazes of a few lingered. Perhaps they had seen him before, when he had turned Super Saiyajin in the middle of their village.

"May I suggest," Vegeta started, and Goku turned his eyes to him, "you spend a while seeing what they normally do?" Goku tilted his head, waiting for an explanation. "And perhaps you can convince them that you're like them," his brows lowered, "and not like Vejata."

"Oh, yeah!" Goku nodded, but paused as Vegeta made as if to turn away. "What're _you_ doing? Aren't you coming with me?"

"No," he shook his head. "I have a few things I want to take care of first."

"Yeah?"

Vegeta nodded. "Among them, I think these people should know that their queen is dead."

"Are you gonna tell 'em you killed her?"

He shook his head. "No. They'll likely try to make me their ruler. Besides, I was supposed to be this whole time anyway." Goku seemed to consider this. "I think they'd best start again."

"And pick a new king?" Goku guessed.

Vegeta nodded, and he smirked a little. "Maybe a king—for now."

"What?"

"You'll see."

Goku pouted, sticking his tongue out. "That's not fair."

"Is too," Vegeta turned his nose into the air. "Now go. Find your students, or whatever," he waved his hand, continuing nonchalantly, "become a true Saiyajin, and so on." He spun on his heel to leave.

"Vegeta?"

"What now?"

He could nearly feel Goku's grin radiating from him. "Y' talk like you're not so Saiyajin yourself."

"You talk like it surprises you," he answered quietly, not turning to face him, "after all my time on Earth."

"Guess that only makes sense," Goku answered, imitating Vegeta's tone. "Knowin' how since I've known you so long I ain't entirely human."

He smirked a little. "Were you ever?"

"Well," the man's voice seemed thoughtful, "your planet got blown up when you were real young, an' all. So then were you ever really Saiyajin?"

"For a while," he answered softly, and drifted into the air. "Now get going."

...

The entrance to the castle was surprisingly quiet, and Vegeta wondered if no one had stepped up to take Vejata's place. Likely they assumed her temporarily gone, even though it had been months; then again, he supposed, it was equally likely that they may have been afraid to take over, knowing that her return would mean their death. A Saiyajin who was loitering nearby, glancing over the building, froze at the sight of Vegeta, but before he could run, Vegeta was gripping him by the scruff of his neck. "Hey," he spoke, and the Saiyajin's eyebrows shot up at the unexpectedly deep pitch. "I'd like to ask you a favor."

"A-a-a-are you related to the Queen?"

He paused for a moment. "Yes. Isn't it obvious? But that's not important. She's dead."

"Did you kill her?" he struggled against Vegeta's grasp, but the man did not set him down.

"No," he answered firmly. "I only know that she is no more."

"You..._sure_?"

"Certain. Now, as I said, I'd like to ask you a favor." The man nodded. "Go tell all your friends, and tell them to tell their friends—that Queen Vegeta is dead, and gone for good."

"Who's the new ruler?"

"Decide amongst yourselves," Vegeta dropped him. "But leave me out of it."

"Wait!" the man shouted after the prince. "Wait! Are you—are you—_Prince Vegeta_?"

Vegeta bit his lip, crossing his arms as he thought quickly. "Don't be foolish. I'm his brother." The man seemed doubtful, and so after further thought, he added, "My father shipped me to a distant system when I was young—he was ashamed of my weakness, compared to my brother."

"O-oh," the Saiyajin nodded. "Oh. Okay. So—"

"So pick your own damn ruler; I'm not ready to die."

The man nodded vigorously, and ran down what seemed to be a once-beaten path to the nearest village, tail waving madly behind him as he sprinted.

...

Now that he was alone, the atmosphere pressed unease into Goku's body. The villages looked familiar enough; it had not been so long since he had flown over them. As before, Saiyajin wrestled in the streets, flew from place to place, held what he hoped were merely sparring matches in some of the open plains. But Goku knew—knew he would have to visit one more familiar place before this unease would leave him. He had decided to come here, but hadn't known the memory would press at him so persistently; Goku feared that if he attempted to approach the other Saiyajin now, he might act in some way he wouldn't ordinarily, might be—_mean_, or at least too impatient or too confused. The fog of stubborn hatred that the wind wouldn't blow away hovered just over his heart, and he knew that he would have to think about it again—to wonder and consider.

Most frighteningly, he knew that even after all of that, there was the possibility that he would have to accept his present state as his future one: not all-forgiving, anymore; haunted by an act that was marked by his death, and all so sudden that at times it took effort to remember that it wasn't a dream.

He had sensed Vegeta there earlier, but the man had left relatively quickly—perhaps he had avoided the area. But Goku knew he had to visit the place where his heart felt betrayal.

...

Vegeta rapped on the door, tapping his foot impatiently. He couldn't remember the Saiyajin custom for entering homes—never really did so, as a child, in his limited time on his home planet. Usually doors were opened for him before he even reached them; people expected him. More likely, he supposed, they expected his father, and he was simply along to learn, but—to a child, the difference was blurry.

"Whaddaya want?" a young voice demanded from behind the still-closed door.

"Open the door," Vegeta imitated the demanding tone, smirking a little. He was right in believing it was this _ki_; he had been concerned that his memory on the matter was too fuzzy and that this was just some similar Saiyajin. The voice, however, told him otherwise.

It swung open to reveal a familiar girl, arms crossed and lips drawn into a sneer. When she locked eyes with Vegeta, however, she jumped, and then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Ain't you the prince Vegeta?"

"So you remember me," Vegeta's smirk grew. "Good."

"Y'know, you said Queen Vegeta wouldn't come back, an' you know what? You were right. She never did. Did you kill her?"

Vegeta glanced around. "Is anyone else here right now?" The girl shook her head, and Vegeta bent his knees so that he was at eye-level with her. "All right," he set one hand on her shoulder. She frowned, but let it stay there. "I'm going to tell you something, but you _cannot_ tell anyone else."

"A secret?" her eyes widened a bit.

"Most definitely. The answer to your question is yes—I did."

"So you're the king!"

Vegeta shook his head, and holding one finger above his mouth to indicate that she should quiet down about it. "I don't want to be," he muttered. "I have a different home now, and I think the last thing your planet needs right now is another Vegeta in charge." His somber tone sucked the girl's excited smirk away, and she nodded slowly. "So you'll have a new ruler."

"My dad woulda been—"

"Yes," Vegeta nodded, "you told me, when we first met." As he glanced over her oddly familiar features, Vegeta decided he could afford a brief diversion from his intended track of conversation. "Say, who was your father?"

"Um," she was suddenly less tough, tail floating ambivalently behind her. "His name was Ch-Choy."

Vegeta mulled over this. "Sounds familiar," he finally spoke.

"Did you know 'im?"

The prince shook his head. "I don't believe so. Do you happen to know—anything about his parents?"

"Well," she rocked back and forth on her feet for a while, "A little bit. Hey," she suddenly glared at him, "stop bending down like y' need to be my height for me to understand you. Come in an' sit or something." Blowing him a raspberry, she turned on her heel and marched inside. "Shut the door behind you!"

Vegeta did so, and evaluated his surroundings with mild surprise. He wondered if the elite Saiyajin who had survived were now living in a way that much more resembled the lifestyle of the lower-class Saiyajin than they ever would have imagined. Much of the furniture was little more than solid blocks of rock or other materials, with the furs of the local wildlife thrown over them. It made sense, he supposed, for a people who concerned themselves mainly with fighting and eating—especially now, perhaps little status was associated with fancy furniture.

"So do you wanna hear about my grandpa or not?"

"Of course," Vegeta took a seat.

"Well, none a' the stupid neighbors like hearing this story 'cause they think we're a bunch of liars, but it's not true. I mean, it is true—the story. I got told it by my parents, an', well, an' they knew my grandpa for a bit, of course, so I believe 'em." She paused, frowning and wiping at her eyes unassumingly. "Mom kinda stopped telling it after Queen Vegeta killed Daddy, but I remember it pretty good."

Vegeta bowed his head slightly. "Well, I'll believe you."

She nodded, and perked up as she began to speak. "Well, my grandpa was an elite, 'course, but he didn't get to come here with some a' the others, 'cause I guess 'cause everyone was pretty sure that the one guy, the ice—"

"Freeza," Vegeta spat.

"That the ice _bastard_," she amended, at hearing his tone of voice, "would notice that he was gone. He must a' been important," she mused. "An' he was pretty damn strong." Vegeta chuckled, and she crossed her arms defensively. "What? What now?"

Vegeta shook his head. "You speak like my son," he noted with amusement. "My mate would say, 'too much swearing for someone so young.'" He laughed a little more. "She's one to talk."

The girl shrugged. "I don't see nothin' wrong with it."

"No," Vegeta agreed.

"_Anyway_, my grandpa was real strong."

"All right."

"He was doing stuff for, uh," she paused, and held her hand up when Vegeta opened his mouth, "_Freeza_, when the planet got blown up."

Vegeta nodded. "As was I."

"Yeah. He was—" she paused "—hold on_, hold on_—sh—shoot, he was takin' care of _you_!"

The prince's eyebrows shot up. "N-Nappa?"

"Thassa one! Nappa, Nappa, Nappa was my grandpa I never met! You knew him!"

"I did," Vegeta nodded.

"He ain't—he ain't still alive?" she sounded hopeful, leaning closer to Vegeta.

"No," he breathed. "No, he's not. He died some time ago."

"Do you know how? You do, right? He was always with you, right? Tha' was his job, yeah, that's right!"

"He was," Vegeta whispered, and the girl leaned in closer. He pondered glazing it over—to make things easier. But no; this was her only chance to learn about her family's history, and his chance to fill in the holes that her parents had left, not knowing better. His chest quivered at thought. Vejata had killed the girl's father; "I—I killed your grandfather."

"Y-y-y—" her eyes widened, teeth clenched. "_You_?" Her fists were balled tightly and she quivered with rage; her entire body shook. Vegeta noted with alarm the spike in her power, immense for her age and indeed larger than it had been before, the last time he had seen such rage in her eyes. In his surprise, he was helpless to block her as she slugged him across the face. As he reeled backward, he resolved to let her do what she had to—but no more punches came. He watched as she breathed heavily, holding herself in a defensive stance.

Vegeta bit his lip. "Listen—girl—" he spoke quietly. "It was—I'm—" She seemed to perceive the apology, and loosened her stance a bit, but a soft growl still emanated from her throat.

"Hell," she spat, "you're _all_ fucked up, ain'tcha? Why would you _do_ that?" The girl looked away, grumbling, as if she wasn't expecting an answer.

He nodded, but smirked a little as he rubbed his cheek. "You know," he laughed, "that hurt."

"Good," she rubbed her knuckles. "Hurt me too."

"What's your name?"

"Cole," she seemed timid about it, her normally expressive tail wrapping around her waist as she answered.

"Cole," Vegeta repeated. "Would you be interested in—in hearing some more stories about your grandfather?"

She nodded, expression blooming into a grin.

"Would you like me to teach you a little bit about fighting?"

Again she nodded, this time bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"And," he crossed his arms, smirking, "Cole?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me—do you like the sound of _Queen _Cole?"

"B-b-but—"

"Not yet," he assured her, resting a hand against her hair, ruffling it. "We're talking in a few years, at least. What do you think? Like that idea?"

"Y...," she breathed, "_Yeah._"


	5. 05

The castle was fairly empty, Goku noticed as he alit, much as it had been upon his first arrival. The walk down the hallway was painful; Goku recalled his desperation and sadness as he had first entered, hoping the woman he'd thought was his friend could assist him. The door to Vejata's area was open, and Goku was immediately shocked by the stale scent of himself. The smell of the room brought back more memories than he thought resided within him, and he leaned against the wall to catch his balance as his mind reeled. Certainly Vejata had lived in here after his death, but her influence had been sparse; was the furniture still cocked at the odd angles it had ended up in? Were those blood-stains? He struggled to remember if they had been there before—before he'd come into the room, or before he'd been killed. Goku rubbed his temples at his fuzzy memory; recalling clearly events that had happened while he was ascended past the normal Super Saiyajin level was always a bit difficult, let alone amidst such emotional turmoil, and he wondered if he really wanted to remember at all.

After all, the whole thing had been a false memory—for he still didn't know how it felt to be so close to Vegeta; she was not him. If he had enjoyed any part of it, it sickened him to think of it. Vegeta had never asked about it—perhaps it was even more unnerving to him than it was to Goku. Finding his balance again, the Saiyajin pushed off of the wall to pace around the room, forcing himself to remember—to remember why, and how; the painful times he'd willed himself to go on even when he saw past her trick.

As he rounded the table in the middle of the room, Goku noticed one thing that was distinctly different about it from the last time he had been here. The hallway with three doors—there had been buzzing before, with the doors tightly shut. Now all but one were halfway open, and there was no buzzing noise. Had Vejata left them that way? But, no—was this not where Vegeta had found the broken space pod? He peeked into one of the doors, and there it was, still apparently unrepaired. A blueprint was unfolded and laid out across the floor beside a manual, held open by a heavy, important-looking part. Goku glanced over the pod; it was probably the same as what he'd arrived on Earth in. Vegeta had been preparing to head back to Earth in it, too—to his home.

The next room seemed to be some bedroom. Things were in disarray, walls dented. Goku wondered why it had been protected by the same buzzing device Bulma had rigged up to the rooms with her most valuable possessions. What was valuable here? He shrugged and moved along to the room with the shut door. When he pressed his fingers into the handle, it was cold; perhaps this was where Vejata kept her food. He licked his lips, wondering what the Saiyajin ate. Calmer now that he had spent time out of the main room, he _was_ getting hungry—perhaps whatever was in this refrigerator was still good. With a jiggling of the handle and a shoving of the door, Goku entered.

He shivered as he turned on the light. Footprints were pressed along the thin ice on the floor, and he felt the warmth from his own boots melting the ice below him. He wondered if the boot prints were Vegeta's or Vejata's, and his eyes followed them to the back of the room, where some sort of compartment was fixed against the wall, its glass display iced over and impossible to see through. Goku was reminded of winters at his house—breathing on the window and, on the coldest days, watching his breath freeze on until the warmth of the room melted it back. Maybe the glass here had been breathed on, too, but it was too cold and so the layers remained. As Goku approached, he saw where handprints had pressed through some of the ice, and was certain the boots had been Vegeta's; these handprints were a bit too big to be Vejata's.

But why had Vegeta pressed his hands up to the glass? Had he been looking for something, too? Goku settled his hands over the marks, and shivered as his body heat melted the ice from beneath them, cold water droplets running down his arms. He pressed his forehead against the glass, too, and watched as his heat dissolved the ice. Goku closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the cool of the room, hoping that it could slow the inevitable rise of hot sickness that would overtake him once he left back through the living area.

When he opened them again, he wondered why it was that his reflection's eyes were still closed—he had never seen such a mirror. But as he glanced down, where streaks of water had melted through the other ice, he found that his reflection was also in a different pose—and was paler, and wore no clothes.

His gut swelled and he turned his head to the side, clenching his eyes shut and wondering if he would heave. After several moments, he braced himself and turned back to the glass, no longer obscured by ice for all the heat he had been giving off so near it. "Porunga gave me a new body," he whispered to himself, wondering why. Had this one been damaged beyond repair? Chi-Chi often talked of keeping things in the freezer too long...not that it was ever an issue in their household.

Goku wondered if he should have been used to the sight of himself—after all, his son was the spitting image of him. But this was different—it was _him_, and he was _dead_. But here he was—alive as ever, or at least alive as he had been for the past few months. Some visceral reaction within him drew tears to his eyes as he pawed at his face through the glass, as if he could comfort himself for everything that had happened. He pressed his forehead against it and let the tears fall, and they spotted small pockmarks into the icy floor between his toes. Seeing friends die was always difficult—tore at him, to be sure. But they were always wished back, weren't they? And so had he been, besides this residue of his old life that remained. The first time he had died, Kami had taken his body. The second, it had been destroyed entirely, as it had been the third. He wondered why Vejata had put it away like this—had she been trying to keep it intact? It looked in good shape, but perhaps Porunga had found something wrong with it. Bulma would probably know, but he would not wish to show her such a gruesome display. He would not wish it onto anybody.

But someone had seen it—Vegeta. Goku gazed over his icy body, wondering what Vegeta had thought, and had he found it before or after finding out what had happened? Had he frowned at Goku's foolishness, or had the sight upset him?

By now, Goku could not look away from himself. Of course he would have to destroy his body—what if someone else found something bad to do with it? What if he was copied, like Vegeta, and all the copies of him were deceptive, were cruel, were evil?

Would they be as strong as him? Would they be as nice? Would they be as forgiv—

Goku hung his head. The whitened body before him was the last of his bottomless well of goodwill. This him had friends and enemies, and nothing in between, and not one taken for the other. Even Vegeta he had decided on from the first time they had met—a friend. It had been a good decision; how could this one have gone so wrong?

This old him was the him he'd been happy with, and the him he'd known.

_But I have to get rid of him_, he decided, biting his lip. _That ain't me now, whether I like it or not._ Goku swung the door open, and, jarred, the body tumbled out, hitting the ground with something between an icy _clink_ and a heavy _thud_. Goku lit up a Kamehameha between his palms. "Bye, friend."

...

Vegeta glanced up at the small spike in Goku's energy, and swallowed when he realized the man's location. They would have to discuss it later—maybe.

"When are you gonna teach me how to fight?" Cole's tail whipped around in her excitement, striking Vegeta's calf as it swung. "Huh? Can you teach me something of my grandpa's?"

The prince held one finger over his mouth and closed his eyes. He had been startled enough by the sight of Goku's dead body; if that was what Goku had noticed just now, he could only imagine what the man might be feeling. Surprises tended to roll off the man no matter what they were, but he had seemed more fragile lately. The shakiness in Goku's resilience was alarming to Vegeta; if Goku could not recover from this trauma, no one could have. But unlike Vegeta, Goku was not armed with a different kind of resilience, of ability to absorb and move on, if slowed.

He had never seen his own dead body, of course—when he had been brought back after Vejata killed him, Porunga had been able to recover his body, and again he found himself crawling up from beneath the ground. In a world where such things as the dragon balls existed, and where he and those he knew had died time and time again, perhaps he should have considered this an inevitability.

"Hey! Whassa big deal?" Cale huffed, crossing her arms. When Vegeta continued to stare into the distance, she kicked his shin.

Vegeta hissed at the sudden pain. "_What_?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Ain'tcha teaching me or ain'tcha?"

"Right," he smirked a little. "Of course." He lit up a ball of _ki_ in his palm. "Can you do this?"

"_Duh_," she imitated him.

"Good. That makes your first lesson easier." She grinned and puffed her chest out. "We'll see if you can pick it up as quickly as I did—sensing _ki_."

...

It was time to go, and Goku knew it. He shook as he stepped through the main room, but he made himself do it. He knew what he was doing next, too—would talk to the Saiyajin as Vegeta had advised, and would make the experience into something that he hoped would help him. It was impossible to tell, but as far as he reckoned, avoiding matters had never gotten him far.

The first village was near, and the people were buzzing and chattering—rather than the fighting and boasting that he had expected to enter. There was a brief hush as he passed each group, but the chatter picked back up almost immediately. Eventually, he gathered up the will to approach one small horde of Saiyajin. "Hey!" he called out. "What's going on?"

"You haven't heard?" a woman turned around, raising her eyebrows. "Queen Vegeta is dead. We're makin' bets on who takes her spot."

"How're you gonna decide?" Goku cocked his head.

The woman rolled her eyes. "If the person who tries to get up there ain't as strong as he thinks he is, someone'll do away with 'im and take over. Easy enough. What're you, a tourist?"

"Well," he scratched the back of his neck, "yeah, kinda. Hey, can I talk to you?"

There was some muttering amongst the group, and the woman tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Don't see why I should wanna."

"Er—I—"

"I mean, if you want beneath my armor," she raised her eyebrows suggestively before returning to her condescending stare, "you oughtta at least provide a basis for..."

Goku immediately threw his hands out to the sides. "No! No! I don' want that..."

Another of the Saiyajin in the group gave a low whistle, and the woman's hair stood on end. There was more whispering, and she glared back at the crowd to hush them. "Well, look who thinks he's better'n me..."

Goku crossed his arms, smirking mischievously. "Well, pretty sure I _am._"

"Prove it."

"You sure?" Goku raised his eyebrows. "I don't wanna hurt you..."

"I dare you."

He shrugged. "Well, arright." Before she could blink, she was sliding into the building behind her. Goku brushed some dust from his sleeves. "See? You didn't even see me comin'."

"_Shit_," someone in the crowd laughed, and another pumped her fist in the air, cheering.

"So," he reached down to help her up, "c'mon, you wanna talk to me?"

"Freak," she rolled her eyes, smacking his hand away as she stood. "That color is hideous."

Goku glanced down at his clothes? "Really? I like it." He started walking toward the outskirts of the town, and she followed, waving the group away.

"All right, tourist, this'd better be good."

"Well, I dunno," he shrugged. "You tell me. I wanted t' ask you about—about Queen Vegeta."

"All right," she sighed. "Guess I oughtta expect that of someone new around here. Well—"

"Lemme say that I've met her—but—"

She raised her eyebrows. "Have you?"

"Yeah, I knew her for a while, y'know, thought we got along pretty well but—"

"And you lived," now her voice was flat, and she rolled her eyes, "_sure_."

"Hey, listen, lady, I just wanna ask you what she was like before."

"Before what?"

"Before—er, I guess, er, before she went away for a while, an', an' before she came back a Super Saiyajin."

"_Oh_," the woman's tail tightened around her waist, and she crossed her arms. "Well, damn, it's tough to remember. A lot's happened since then."

"Yeah?" he noted her posture. "Like what? Somethin' happen to you?"

"Who the fuck _didn't_ something happen to? Anyway, that ain't what you're asking about. Before she went crazy—" the woman's eyes seemed to mist over. "Well, she wasn't half bad. Got shit _done_. Expected us to be _something_." She paused. "An' when she came back, expected us to be something we," her fists clenched, "we can't."

"She was—all right before?"

"Well, she was a Vegeta," the woman shrugged, "and no doubt she was raised by King Vegeta, only she had _guts,_ and the strength t' back it up." She paused. "I wonder if that original son, that Prince Vegeta, if he'd ever have come to anything like her." Goku shivered, and opened his mouth to correct her, but she continued. "I mean, that Super Saiyajin thing, it's gotta just be in the Vegeta line, don't you think? She tried damn hard enough to make one of us one of _her_."

"Don't think it is just Vegetas," Goku smiled playfully. "Naw."

"Yeah?" she locked eyes with him.

"S'pose you never knew," he laughed a bit, "who the first Super Saiyajin was."

"The Queen," she stated.

"Nope," Goku's smile spread into a grin, "but hey, good guess, I s'pose." When he felt an unfamiliar _ki_ spike near where Vegeta was, he glanced in its direction. "Say, though, I gotta go—thanks for talkin' with me—"

"Wait!" she reached for him, eyes wide, but he had vanished.


	6. 06

NOTE: If what's happening at the end doesn't seem familiar to you, recall the portion of the series with Buu, Piccolo, and Gotenks in the Room of Spirit and Time. I hope it makes sense! I'm really nervous to hear what you guys think about this. Coming up with a source of conflict for this last story was tough!

...

"What was _that_?" Goku blurted as he tumbled into Vegeta's midst, tripping over something small in front of him. Vegeta shrugged in the direction of what Goku had tripped over, and the Saiyajin turned to find that it was a Saiyajin girl—probably only a year or two younger than Goten.

"Stupid," she blew him a raspberry. "You're clumsy!"

"What was that spike in power?" Goku blinked, brushing her insults aside.

"That," Vegeta smirked, nodding toward Cole, "was her." He crossed his arms. "Didn't you notice the first time?"

"N-no," Goku admitted. "I wasn't really paying attention 'til—" he stopped. "Hey, wait, that power was this little girl?"

"I'm not little!"

"It was she," Vegeta nodded.

"That's what you were talking about before!" Goku realized. "Her! How did you know her?"

"Met her while I was stranded. Her name is Cole." He leaned closer. "She's Nappa's granddaughter."

"Whoa!" Goku grinned and turned to Cole. "I fought Nappa once, y'know?"

"Did he beat you up?" she cracked her knuckles as if she was preparing to do the same.

"W-well...no," Goku admitted. "I sorta beat _him_ up."

Cole's face fell, and so Vegeta added, "Kakarrot is the strongest Saiyajin ever to live. You'd best listen to his lessons, too." She nodded solemnly, but frowned as she looked back to Goku, crossing her arms. "I was just about to teach her how to sense _ki_," Vegeta explained.

"Oh, yeah!" Goku nodded. "That's real important. Hey Vegeta, maybe if you an' me both power up, maybe she can sense us arready? When I was teaching Vejata—" he stopped and slowed down, excitement falling slightly, "when I was teaching Vejata how to go Super Saiyajin I started out with how t' sense _ki_, an' I powered up real high an' it didn't take her much practice to learn how t' find me."

"Sounds like a good place to start," Vegeta agreed. "Hell, it was the first thing I learned from you, too—in a way."

"Guess so." Goku grinned. "So—er—Cole?—so Vegeta and I, we're gonna power up, and you use your senses t' see if you can feel our power. Okay?"

She nodded resolutely. "Arright. But Kakarrot?"

"Yeah?"

"You better watch out, 'cause I'll beat you up real quick here, once I get strong!"

Goku beamed. "I look forward to it."

...

"Damn," Shallot breathed, watching tongues of golden flame dance over the queen's skin. "Vegeta."

"You like it?" she gave a toothy grin.

"How'd you—how'd you _do_ it?"

"Funny story, that," Vejata whispered. "And one I haven't told anyone."

"Tell me," Shallot demanded.

"It's triggered by an emotional response—desperation, I guess—" Shallot nodded and leaned back to watch Vejata as she spoke. "New Vegeta being destroyed didn't do it, not quite—took some awful painful memories." She paused, expecting that Shallot might fill in the blanks, but when the woman merely continued watching Vejata, she added, "You."

"Well," Shallot grinned, "you're welcome."

"You—you don't—mind—"

"Of course I fucking _mind_," Shallot snarled, posture changing quickly as her demeanor as she dug her hands into the dirt on either side of Vejata. "Don't you forget it," she narrowed her eyes. "But, shit, Vegeta, a _Super Saiyajin_—" She froze, and immediately her eyes were wide, caught in an expression of fear that Vejata had only witnessed on Shallot's face once before. She jumped up, clenching her fists. "N-no..._no_, dammit, Vegeta, make it go away!"

"Make what—"

"Your hair, your—the—the gold—the—"

"Wh..." she blinked, "Why?"

"_Just fucking do it_!"

Vejata complied, concern etched over her features at the persistence of Shallot's fear even as the last wisp of gold faded. The woman who stood above her glanced around wildly, and held a hand out to help Vejata up. "What—"

"Shit, I hope it didn't see," she muttered. "We gotta...we gotta...I dunno..." her panic was quiet now.

"It?"

"The—the bug thing—it—well, damn, you ain't been here to see—it—real gradual like, it sucks people up in its tail, an'—"

"Calm down," Vejata urged, "you're not making any sense."

"Every now an' then," Shallot muttered, "some strong guy disappears. I saw it once, one a' them younger Vegetas—it'd been—been fighting an'—an' the green thing said something about—well it appeared all sudden an'—an' sucked him right up!"

"Sucked up," Vejata repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Shallot, I—"

"Shoot, it's 'cause it said it _felt_ the guy was strong, somehow, an'—an' that sucking him up made it stronger!"

Vejata followed Shallot in glancing around the area, suppressing her power in case what Shallot said was true—if some being that could seek out and somehow absorb the powerful really did haunt Hell. "I don't sense anyone strong around here," she muttered. "Not stronger than one of those copies, at least—"

"Sense?" Shallot whipped around to face Vejata. "You can do it, too? Like the green thing did, _feel_ whether someone is or ain't so strong?"

Vejata nodded. "Yes—well—sort of—"

"We should get outta here," Shallot cut her off, "lest the thing come lookin'...let's go back t'—"

"Back to where?" a new voice interrupted.

"Shit," Shallot shivered. "That's it."

"I won't waste your time," he continued as if he had not heard the comment. "Now, let's see, which of you is stronger—ah." Vejata braced herself, ready to put up whatever fight she could against it—but before she could so much as speak, he had vanished from his position before them. By the time Vejata had swiveled her head to locate him, she recalled that she must have seemed weaker to the being—her power suppressed as it was—and—

And her gut quaked as Shallot's struggling feet disappeared last into the being's tail. "_You_," she hissed.

"I have a name," he closed his eyes, perhaps focusing on the lump that was being slowly swallowed into his body. "You can call me Cell."

"I don't intend to call you anything," Vejata snapped, yellow wisps dancing around her as she prepared to power up.

"Oh, you _were _the stronger one," he sighed. "I wondered—but—" a smirk spread over his face. "No matter. That friend of yours was just enough, I'd say." The grinding of Vejata's teeth as she clenched them was audible. "Of course, you might ask just enough for _what_, and I can't blame you," he continued. "You seem new here."

"Awful cocky," Vejata mustered, "for something that looks like it belongs beneath my boot—"

"Cocky with reason, I assure you," he chuckled. "But don't worry—I won't take you, too. I don't need to draw any attention, and besides—the power I've got is more than enough. Ah, but I was going to tell you what I had in mind, wasn't I?"

"No," she growled. "Now spit that woman back out—"

Cell chortled. "Don't fool yourself into thinking you can stop me. Now—where would be the best place for this glorious moment? Perhaps this spot is as good as any..."

Vejata's booted toes curled into the dirt as she waited. Power seemed to be unfurling from the figure at a rate she had only before seen from Goku—and then, suddenly, was past his, or what she had seen of it, was past—

"I've only seen this done once before," Cell spoke again, more quietly, apparently focusing inward. "So I hope you'll forgive me if I have to try it twice. I only saw the fellow from a distance—"

The queen opened her mouth to dole out some insult, but it was too dry; none came. His power seemed to have swept her voice from her throat.

"Of course they grabbed control over him before he could do anything about it, but that's only because he was stupid. What was his name—Buu? But," he turned to her. "I'm sure you would try to escape Hell, too, even though you're surely just as stupid as the next Saiyajin."

"E-escape?" she stuttered, and that was all that would come.

"Well, that's what I assume it was," Cell seemed further focused as he turned back away from her, and Vejata noticed that his power seemed to draw back into him—he was still clearly strong, but it was all focused at one point now. "A bid to escape—he made some kind of rip through Hell. They stopped him right away, before he could go through it. But look around you," he nearly boomed, "I've been here far too long, and been far too _boring_ for anyone to keep a watch on me—taking my time, and only absorbing the uninteresting ones that wouldn't be missed. No one will know until it's too late."

"I—"

"You're lucky to be right here. Have a little taste of freedom, if you wish. You seem, at least, to be smarter than those _other_ copies of Vegeta."

"You—"

"Stand back," Cell nearly laughed. He sucked in all the stifling, humid air his body could hold, and then some; his chest swelled to proportions Vejata would have expected to be impossible. As he paused, Cell's power seemed to burst upward through any ceiling Vejata could imagine, and then, abruptly, it switched direction, and spewed from Cell's mouth as he screamed. The air directly in front of him quivered like water, crashed like waves, bubbled like lava, and then ruptured into a violent tear through Hell itself, a wide hole that showed a winding path through clouds, patterned with reptilian scales—

Cell jumped through the hole, and vanished from Hell. Glancing one way, and then the other, Vejata bit her lip and made a dash toward the anomaly, wincing as she leapt into it.


	7. 07

Vejata stumbled onto solid ground, and caught herself before she fell over the jagged border of the path into the clouds that surrounded it. Cell was nearby—glancing downward in thought. "They don't seem to be on Earth," he muttered, but burst into the same grin he had been wearing as he'd jumped through the hole. "Well, it won't take them long to notice that I _am_!" He lifted two fingers to his forehead and vanished.

The queen considered the same thing—and then realized that yes, the Cell creature had just used the same technique that Goku did, so much like her own. How did he know it? But, more importantly, his mention of Earth— As she stretched her own senses, she was surprised to notice that she could very dimly sense power from the living world—but she was clearly not in it. No, an _oni_ in the distance ran a sweeper along the path, serpentine and apparently never-ending.

_If he could teleport out of here_, Vejata decided, _then I can._ The vast array of possibilities flew through her mind—in Hell she had been trying to forget what she might have wished to have done before she died. Before she died—right before she died—the prince had crushed the medallion, refusing to take over as king. The Vegeta line would end, and Vejata was certain that there was no one strong enough—no one fit enough to lead on New Vegeta, not anymore. She thought of Shallot, now inside the green being—forever?—of their brief reunion, her flicker of happiness that had been rivaled by few events in her life after Shallot's death. Vejata had been certain for twenty years that Shallot was gone for good—but—there she was, with so many other Saiyajin in Hell. The queen wondered briefly whether each Saiyajin came to the afterlife already judged for the sins of their race, but then—Goku had gotten into Heaven. Perhaps he was the only one.

Vejata nodded to herself as she made her decision. She wasn't sure if returning to the living world would make her their queen again, but if it did or not, there was something she was going to do. She had mentioned it before—the weakening of her people, no new heights of glory reached as they slowly recovered on their new planet. Freeza had wiped out the Saiyajin once—almost. So had the younger copies of the prince. Perhaps they weren't meant to live—especially not now that she was gone, no, for who else could rule them? Indeed, her people had disappointed her so, caused her such suffering that within a year of her leap in strength she could no longer stand to rule them.

She wasn't sure if it was to be called revenge—no—but that was a part of it. She would merely return things to the state the universe seemed to want them to be in, and savor every moment of it.

The _oni_, nearing Vejata, glanced up at her with confused eyes. "Shit," she muttered. And what if the afterlife's authorities noticed her missing? What if her powering up enough to destroy the planet drew attention to her and they took her away before she could do it—and before she could follow the creature that had swallowed Shallot, to try to extract her?

_They can't drag me back to Hell if I'm alive_, she smirked a little, focusing on Namek. She knew the leader, at least knew enough of him, and that was all she needed—

...

"There we are," Vejata whispered in mock reassurance. "Now summon him."

"W-w-we can get Son Goku over here to send you back where you belong!" one of them exclaimed, holding his hands over the glowing spheres.

"Aw, now," she chortled, "I haven't done anything wrong—yet." She paused. "Besides, I'm sure Prince Vegeta will send me right back to Hell as soon as he finds out. Does knowing that help you?"

Gritting his teeth, the Namekian chanted, and Porunga burst forth. "Speak your wish," he rumbled.

"Wish me back to life," Vejata demanded.

The Namekian's fingers twitched and balled into fists, but he spoke the wish, and Vejata's halo disappeared without event. "I don't need anything else," she told him, gazing into the distant sky. A blazing beacon in the direction of her home planet told her that someone else was there, too. _That would be why Cell couldn't find them on Earth_, she decided. If he hadn't know where to look, well—he couldn't have well searched the entire universe for them. _I'm surprised they've not gone after him already_. But whatever they were up to, she had something to take care of, too. She lifted her fingers to her forehead.

...

"Shoot!" Goku glanced to one side. "You feel that?"

"Yes—" Vegeta's eyes narrowed, but when he looked to Goku, he noticed the man's gaze was focused in another direction. "Wait, Kakarrot—what are you—"

"Yeah, jeez, it feels a whole lot like..." he seemed to be chewing his tongue as he thought about it. "Well, I dunno, a lot of people really, but mostly like..."

"No, moron, try _that _way!" Vegeta pointed. "Vejata—she just appeared here."

"She—she what?" Goku blinked.

"What's going on?" Cole demanded, stomping her foot. "What just happened?"

"Is she—is she _alive_?" Goku continued, shivering a little, and Cole blew him a raspberry for ignoring her, tapping her boot impatiently against the ground.

"I don't know," Vegeta muttered. "It doesn't make any sense—I know Bulma wouldn't have—" he paused. "Should we—go and see?" he asked quietly, waiting to see the other man's reaction. "I can just go—if you want to stay and—" he continued awkwardly.

"Thanks," Goku murmured.

"Should I—" Vegeta started, and Goku shrugged.

"Whatever you think is right, Vegeta."

"Whatever I...do you know who I _am_, Kakarrot?" he nearly hissed, and even Cole recoiled at the viciousness of it.

"I do know who you are," Goku answered firmly. "You're a good guy." His brows furrowed. "She's powering up—you'd better—"

Vegeta nodded, and shot out the door.

"What's going on?" Cole tugged on Goku's _gi_. "Who's Vejata?"

"She's—she's—Queen Vegeta."

Cole's small fists balled and quaked. "Prince Vegeta told me she was dead!"

"She was."

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh. Damn."

...

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Vegeta roared, tugging Vejata's extended arm away from its intended target. The massive sphere of _ki_ that had been gathering against her palm grew, and Vegeta wrapped his hand around her knuckles. "Stop it," he hissed, "or I will break your hand."

She raised one eyebrow slightly. "I think you'd break more than that," she answered quietly.

Vegeta's mouth curled into a smirk as he prepared to agree, but as he remembered the last time he had broken her, bone by bone, images of his son flashed behind his eyes. His tears—his accusations. He opened his mouth a few times.

Vejata noticed his expression as it changed, and smirked a little. "Or maybe you wouldn't," the ball of _ki _grew as she mocked him. "I'll give you and Kakarrot time to get away. I think you have other matters to attend to, anyway."

"I don't give a fuck about ruling the Saiyajin," Vegeta spoke with forced calmness. "But you won't kill them."

"Found something you like here?" she snorted. "I doubt it."

Vegeta knew not to mention Cole—it would do him no good, and he remembered vaguely the girl telling him that Vejata had tried to kill her once already. "Don't need help getting into Hell," he finally grumbled. One Vegeta had already destroyed the Saiyajin—this would be another. He thought of Trunks once more. To demonstrate his conviction, he tightened his grip on her hand. "How did you get back here?"

"Ah," the ball of _ki_ grew again. "Yes—well—someone in Hell seemed to know how to escape."

"Who?" he snapped.

"Called himself—Cell."

Vegeta snorted. "Easily taken care of."

Her eyes narrowed. "Not so sure about that. He felt stronger than Kakarrot."

"You don't know what you're doing, then," he scoffed. "It's not my fault you didn't learn to sense _ki_ as effectively as I did. Besides," he raised his chin, "why hasn't he come here to challenge us yet?"

"So it _was_ you he was talking about—not some other Earthlings."

"Of course!" he spat. "The strongest person he fought was—" he paused. "Kakarrot's brat."

"But he must have been looking for you and Kakarrot," she asserted. "Said he couldn't find someone on Earth."

"Is that all he said?" Vegeta's voice was suddenly urgent.

"Said you'd notice him when he got there."

Vegeta frowned, focusing in the direction of his home. "_Shit_," he muttered after a moment.

"I told you," she spat. "Might even be stronger than us when we fused," the last word was spoken with disgust.

"I doubt it," Vegeta's voice shook. "I—I'm—I've got to tell Kakarrot." Vejata could see behind his eyes already—images of Bulma dying, of Trunks dying in his absence. He turned to leave, but remembered the sweltering ball of _ki_ behind him. "Come with me," he commanded.

"Why should I?" she teased.

He narrowed his eyes. "Kakarrot doesn't need another reason not to forgive you," he spoke quietly.

"What's that?"

"If you don't come with me, and follow through with your plan, your death will be much slower and much more painful than the last."

"I doubt it," she spat. "I don't think you've got it in you."

"Not me."

She shook at the thought, and solemnly followed.

...

Goku clutched at the fur that covered his chair, shifting position nervously. "She's coming with him," he muttered.

"I know why _I_ don' like her," Cole crossed her arms. "But how come _you_ don't?"

He bit his lip. "I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Kakarrot," Vegeta burst through the door. "Have you felt it yet?"

"What?"

"On Earth."

"Well, yeah, at first, but then you mentioned—and—" the remaining words gurgled in his throat as Vejata entered the home, glancing around as if it struck her as vaguely familiar.

"Check it now," Vegeta demanded.

Goku nodded, turning away and lowering his eyebrows. "What _is _that? It feels—well, like I said, kinda like—"

"Cell."

"No way!" he suddenly seemed excited. "He's so much stronger than he was before! How'd he end up on Earth?"

"Escaped Hell," Vejata spoke lower than a whisper, and Goku froze. "Somehow, by screaming a hole into it—"

"What bullshit!" Cole finally spoke up. "Y' can't _scream_ a hole into things, y'—"

"Fact of the matter is," Vegeta interrupted, "he's on Earth—and we're not."

Goku turned back from Vegeta, and on his open countenance it was clear that two emotions were warring for the lead—his excitement to fight Cell, stronger than ever, and the pain that Vejata's presence seemed to be inflicting upon him. The result was slightly pulled-back lips, flared nostrils and fiercely beating blood.

"Do we have to bring Vejata?" he finally spoke.

"Yes," both Vegeta and Vejata answered in unison, and soon Goku's and Vegeta's eyes were both on her. "Why? I thought you didn't want to," Vegeta nearly accused.

"I have to—" she started. "Well, shit, it's none of your business."

"What I wanna know is how he got so strong," Goku moved closer to Vegeta, preparing to teleport him.

"Hey," Vegeta prompted Vejata, nodding toward his hand on Goku's shoulder. She imitated the motion, and Goku's entire body seemed to flinch at the contact; she had died gloveless, Vegeta recalled, so her hands were bare against Goku's skin. He wondered vaguely if they had been before—if that was why he had recoiled in such a way.

"He sucked people in with his tail," Vejata explained, closing her eyes at the thought. "Into his body."

"Who has he absorbed?" Vegeta asked forcefully.

"Sh—" she started. "I don't know. One of the copies—others—I—"

"Let's just ask him ourselves," Goku interrupted their conversation. He felt Vegeta's grip against him tighten briefly, and glanced toward the prince, who nodded. "At least he ain't too hard to find."

Cole dashed up to the group and clung against Goku's leg, but the man kicked her away more harshly than he meant to. "_No_," he commanded. "You stay here." She glanced toward Vegeta, who shook his head, and growled, grumbling as she stepped back. As Goku lifted his fingers to his brow, however, she leapt forward again—and with the others, disappeared.


	8. 08

"Gohan," Goku breathed as they alit right beside the man, standing atop a steep hill and gazing off into the distance. "You're okay."

"Yeah. Is that Cell?"

"Guess so," he nodded.

"I didn't want to rush into anything—figured you'd come back right away, anyway," the young man smiled, face creasing with concern even as he did so. "Guess I was right."

"Kakarrot!" Vegeta snapped. "You moron!"

"What?" he turned to face the prince. "What is it, Vegeta?" The man pointed to Cole, and Goku frowned. "I told you not to come."

She shrugged, grinning. "Too late now!"

"This isn't a joke," Gohan asserted. "This guy could really hurt you."

"All of you," her tail whipped about behind her, "could really hurt me." She paused. "Well. I dunno 'bout _you_."

"Kakarrot," Vegeta hissed in nearly a murmur.

"Yeah?"

"I want to—to see—" he paused, huffing at the fact that Goku could not fill in the blanks. "I want to make sure Bulma is okay."

"'C-course," Goku nodded. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in a sharp breath. Shortly thereafter Vegeta began swearing profusely, clenching his hand onto Goku's arm. "He's right in the same area as your place!"

"So _get us there!_"

Goku nodded vigorously, and two more hands joined Vegeta's against him. He shivered again, and then glanced up toward Gohan. "Aren't you coming?"

Gohan bit his lip. "I can—if you want me for backup. But Dad—I—I dunno, I guess you were never around after..." he trailed off, and as his father maintained a gaze against him, the young man continued, "...Frankly, those feelings scared me. You know I'm not a fighter, Dad—not _really_. You and Vegeta and Goten and Trunks—you all love this sort of thing. I'm sure you can do a much better job than I can—"

"But Gohan—"

"Let it rest," Vegeta spat, "and let's go."

"I'm just afraid of what I might do if I see him again—if he does something awful—I don't want to...be that _thing_..."

Goku nodded, smiling apologetically. "I think I understand, Gohan." His own thoughts and memories were, at times, more alarmingly out of his control the higher he ascended. For Gohan to have experienced such a thing at such a young age—maybe it had been a bad idea. At the very least, Goku empathized with his son's fear of something inside him that seemed out of his control. "It's okay."

"Send somebody to get me if you need me," he added. "But I know you guys...I think you can handle this. You probably wouldn't even give me a chance to fight anyway," he finished with a small smile. Goku grinned guiltily.

Vegeta, to his right, seemed to be growing immensely impatient, boot tapping restlessly against the ground and teeth grinding together as he waited, apparently in physical pain. Cole seemed confused, taking in her surroundings and attempting to decipher the relationship between the two taller men. Vejata's veins, he was forced to note through their direct contact, seemed to pump in time with Vegeta's, equally impatient, equally frustrated. He wondered if they would need Gohan's help—he was excited to fight what his senses told him was a new, improved Cell, but his stomach couldn't seem to right itself with Vejata around. He remembered once, when he could hardly tell the difference between her and Vegeta; now, it was the world.

The queen had not apologized to him in her time back, but his shy pessimism that had been rearing its head lately had not expected such a thing from her. She hadn't been mean, however—hadn't said a single thing to Goku, really, besides what she had to. The few times he had mustered the courage to look at her face, she averted her eyes, and he wondered if it was out of politeness, or if she felt something too—if such a person was capable of feeling guilt, of feeling regret. If she joined them against Cell, would he retch in his enemy's face for her nearness? He was afraid to consult his feelings on the matter, if something uglier than his lack of forgiveness could surface as a result. But Vejata seemed to have other things on her mind—was distinctly distant. Had her months in Hell subdued her so? "Are we going?" she finally snapped. He bit down hard on his tongue at the sound of her harsh words, but nodded.

...

"I wondered how long it would take you," Cell chuckled. "I thought I might actually have to kill one of them." He jerked his head toward the wall across the room, where Bulma sat crumpled against the wall, petting Trunks' hair and keeping an eye on an apparently unconscious Goten.

"What did you do to them?" Vegeta growled.

"Just moved them to the other side of the room," he crossed his arms. "Don't worry, Vegeta. I wouldn't kill them without extracting the information I need."

"Vegeta," Bulma muttered. "I'm—glad you got here."

He tilted his head toward her in a brief nod. "What the _hell_ do you want with Bulma?"

Cell smirked. "You might say, rather, that I want _out_ of Hell."

"You _are_ out of Hell!" Goku crossed his arms. Vejata wondered vaguely if his posture was meant to display his displeasure at what Cell had done to their family members, or if he was merely impatient to fight.

"Yes, but," he motioned to his halo, "I'd hate for them to drag me back."

"If we kill you now," Goku muttered, "then you'll vanish from existence, 'cause you're already dead once. If you die while you're dead, you're gone."

"Good to know," Cell chuckled. "Thank you, Son Goku. Yet another reason for me to wish myself back to life." Vejata would have smirked a little at the fortune of her own forethought—but her stomach plummeted as more urgent thoughts rushed to her mind.

"What's going on here?" a new voice joined them, and Piccolo's cape swished behind him. His eyes narrowed. "Cell."

"It's a regular party," he chuckled. "Well then, I'm sure you can all help me out. You see, I'm certain that this woman has a radar that can find the dragon balls for me. The problem is, she can't seem to remember where she's put it. I'm sure one of you must know where it is, though, so perhaps I don't need her anymore." He held one hand up and charged a small ball of _ki_ in his hand, glancing around to the occupants of the room.

"_No_," Vegeta and Vejata hissed in unison. As she realized that Vegeta had also spoken, Vejata flinched away, going so far as to turn her back to the scene as he dealt with the matter.

"How sweet," Cell chortled. "But there's really nothing keeping me from killing her. I'm afraid I'm much more powerful than I was the last time you saw me." He took a few steps forward, as if such a thing would be necessary to ensure his accuracy. Trunks balled his fists and stood, but abruptly fell again, and it was then that Vegeta noticed his broken leg.

"Get the fuck out of here," the prince warned.

"Oh, well," Cell shrugged. "I thought you loved them, or something petty like that." The _ki _in his hand seemed to flicker in preparation.

"In the dresser drawer, second floor, wing A," Vegeta muttered, eyes cast toward his feet as he balled his fists.

"Vegeta—" Bulma started.

"But," Goku piped up, "ain't it been less than a year since I was brought back? You used both your wishes then, right? Why, nobody can even call Shenlong for at least a couple more months."

"Again, Son Goku, I must thank you," Cell chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost say you _want _me back to life."

The man waited, watching carefully as Vegeta swiveled his head to glare at him.

"But I noticed," Cell continued, "that this look-alike," he motioned toward Vejata, "doesn't seem to be wearing a halo anymore, yet I'm certain I met her in Hell." Now the prince's poisonous glare was on her. "Now, Son, I know you believe in a fair fight. How about you help me come back to life in the same way she did so that we can start on even ground?"

"Think clearly, Son," Piccolo advised. "We can kill him now and be rid of this problem before it becomes too much for us to handle. Can't you sense his power?" Sounds scratched from Vejata's throat, and both Goku and the Namekian glanced toward her.

"If he's destroyed," Vejata muttered, "what happens to all those he sucked into him while he was in Hell?"

"I imagine they'll be gone forever as well," Piccolo guessed, watching her carefully. Her breathing accelerated. "Son," he spoke again, "no. Look—even Vegeta wants to do away with him right now." He nodded toward the prince, whose fists were clenched as he held his gaze on his family.

"Don't," Vejata pleaded quietly. "Don't destroy him."

The man blinked at her for some moments, confused, as her jaw seemed to quiver in nervousness—some shivering that he had never seen on her. Before he stepped forward, he muttered, "This ain't for you." And then a smirk: "Fine, Cell. You're right. I wanna have a fun fight with you now that we're both stronger. It should be a great time."

"I knew I could trust you," he chortled. "Bring me to wherever this is, that I can be brought back to life." He glanced around the room. "Bring Vegeta, too." Cell looked over the others. "Don't worry; we'll come back to fight on Earth. You won't miss a thing."

"Kakarrot," Vegeta managed through clenched teeth.

"Well—" Goku scratched his head, giving one last glance toward his son, to Piccolo and to Vegeta's family, to Cole, whose tail was wrapped tightly around her waist as she observed the situation, and to Vejata, whose eyes were fixed firmly upon Cell. "Let's go, then."

As the three of them disappeared, Piccolo turned to address the remaining occupants of the room. "We'll go to Dende—so he can heal you." He glanced toward Vejata as he approached Goten, scooping him up under one arm. "How did you get out of Hell?"

"The creature ripped a hole," she hesitated, "some kind of hole through space, by screaming. Said he'd seen someone else try it before. It worked—must've taken him and me to someplace in the afterlife you can teleport from."

"Buu," Piccolo muttered.

"Like when we were trapped in that room?" Trunks suggested, channeling his _ki_ so that he could hover instead of standing on his broken leg. "Shit, does that mean that this guy is as strong as Buu?"

"I'm afraid such may be the case," Piccolo muttered solemnly. He held one hand out to Bulma to help her up, and she obliged.

"But you all know him like—"

"We fought him when you were but a baby."

"Oh," Trunks nodded, "well, I guess you beat him okay then, since I'm still alive."

Piccolo nodded, but his eyes narrowed a bit. "Have your parents ever told you about—" he paused to think, "about the future that could have been, or about the time machine?"

He shook his head.

"So you don't know about..." he trailed off, and made as if to scoop Bulma under his other free arm so that they could fly to the Lookout. Vejata nudged him aside and picked her up instead, and Piccolo watched her carefully.

"I'm not going to hurt her," the queen hissed. "Don't you worry your green little head about it."

"You know," he growled, "no one here is going to forgive you for what you did to Son."

"I never asked for forgiveness."

Bulma breathed quietly in her arms, glancing over her features. Vejata seemed distantly concerned, the kind of quiet desperation and worry that had been Vegeta's chief trait shortly after the fight with Cell, after Goku's death. They were all sure Goku would be gone forever, and for a few weeks Vegeta went on about never being able to fight him again—for, as he pointed out to the woman, most of the man's friends would surely have a special place in Heaven that he would not. After those weeks, he had become silent about the matter, as if he had moved on from it—and maybe he had, eventually. Now, with Goku back and after Buu's defeat, he had seemed even more at peace with himself. She got the feeling something important had happened within him during the fight with Buu, but had never asked about it. "Vejata," she finally muttered, "what're you thinking about?" 

"I can get her back," she responded immediately, but then shook her head as Bulma opened her mouth to ask. "Never mind."

"This is like coming into the middle of a shitty sparring match," Cole offered up, sticking her tongue out. "Boring and I don't know what the hell is going on!"

Piccolo's cheeks tinged at her brashness. "So there's another one of you like these two, huh?" he motioned to Trunks and Goten. "I take it you're a Saiyajin from New Vegeta?"

"Damn straight."

"If you were my child," Bulma started, "I'd—"

"I ain't so y' won't!" she finished. "Now somebody tell me what's going on!"

"Can I get my leg healed first?" Trunks glared at her. "And in case you didn't notice, some of us are unconscious!" he motioned to Goten, still limp under Piccolo's arm.

"Oh, I thought he was dead," she spat.

"If that thing woulda killed Goten I'da gone _apeshit_ on—"

"Children!" Piccolo barked, and then grumbled, "I'm always the goddamn babysitter. But Trunks has a point; let's go now, and talk later." Trunks stuffed his arms over his chest, smirking a little, and Cole turned her nose into the air. Piccolo rolled his eyes and strode out the door.


	9. 09

They paced out the door and hovered into the air, taking off at a pace that Bulma could handle.

"Perhaps one of you will be able to answer my question," Vejata spoke, glancing first over to Piccolo, and then to the side at Bulma's head, leaning against her shoulder. "You said that if Cell was destroyed, all those who had been absorbed into him in Hell would be destroyed along with him."

"I believe so," Piccolo answered, voice tense with what Vejata could only assume was nervousness about the situation at hand—but then, perhaps it was her presence.

"Would they not normally perish inside this being's body anyway?" Her teeth were tightly clenched as she waited, and Piccolo shifted his gaze toward Bulma.

"Eventually," Bulma answered after a moment's thought. "I think."

"It's impossible to die twice in Hell—so I hear. Would the condition of anyone inside him begin to deteriorate as soon as he leaves Hell?"

"I don't know how all that afterlife crap works," Bulma waved her hand, and Piccolo shrugged in agreement. "But I guess if that's the case then anybody inside him has, I don't know—a week or two before they're completely gone?"

"Cell did spit the cyborgs back up," Piccolo reminded her.

"Spit—spit back up?" Vejata's eyes widened. "That's possible?"

Piccolo nodded. "At least with the Cyborgs, it was." His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Not of your concern," she spat.

"With what you did to Son? Everything you do is of my concern," he answered bitterly.

Cole glanced at Trunks, who shrugged. "What did she do?" the girl asked, and Trunks nodded as if to repeat the question himself, eyeing Piccolo as he waited for the answer.

"I think you're a little young—" Bulma started, but Piccolo interrupted her.

"She raped him."

"So that's what you call it," Vejata muttered quietly. "You know, he could have stopped me."

"It was wrong," Bulma insisted. "And awful." At the thought of it, she seemed to flinch away from Vejata, even as she lay in her arms.

"Maybe," she murmured, looking the woman in the eye. "But I've done awful things before."

"Not as bad as—"

"Don't fool yourself," Vejata was suddenly loud, and Bulma winced.

"She's done some pretty bad shit," Cole added, and Vejata narrowed her eyes. "Like killing my dad." The girl glanced over to Trunks. "Then again, Vegeta—he's your father, right?—_he_ killed my grandpa."

Trunks bit his lip, glancing over to Bulma and Piccolo, who shrugged. "Who says?" he challenged.

"He told me hisself."

"Oh." The boy seemed to glance pleadingly at Bulma, as if she could offer some redeeming words for his father. Aside from Vejata's tail and tattered clothing, she was nearly the very image of his father carrying his mother. The way the woman held Bulma seemed wrought with the protectiveness that he had glimpsed, on occasion, from his father, and he was certain that Bulma was the reason his father had seemed so tame when he was younger. Quiet, yes, and taciturn, but hardly ever physically vicious—sometimes downright sweet to Bulma and himself, in his own subtle ways. Maybe he had been bad earlier in life—but maybe he was better now. Maybe he was getting better. Vegeta's apparent rage when Trunks had suggested otherwise had, upon reflection, meant more to the boy than Vegeta likely even meant it to, but the boy still wondered.

Trunks watched Vejata's distant eyes at they seemed to scan the skyline, maybe for the Lookout or maybe for Goku and Vegeta to reappear with the Cell creature. He had hated her for killing his father—then slowly got past it, until hearing that she had killed Goku and taken his mother hostage. When she had stepped from the spaceship with the woman, she seemed dazed, and as he and Goten had fought her into unconsciousness—put up a fight though she tried—she'd seemed to alternate between a slow tiredness and crazed action. He'd had no time to ponder it, of course, and had been far too furious to even consider asking her. The only one who had seemed to have any real familiarity with the woman was his mother, and in the months after Vejata's death Bulma had revealed to him, through weighty passing comments, that Vejata had threatened to kill her—but never did. It was never clear from their conversations exactly how his mother felt about the matter, but now she rested in Vejata's arms without complaint as they flew. If his father had been so horrible, too, when they first met, well—maybe she was used to nestling up with murderers. He shook the thought from his head.

"We're almost there," Piccolo finally spoke. As they alit, Dende rushed to see them, and then faltered at the sight of Vejata.

"Where's Son?" he asked. "And Vegeta?"

"On New Namek," Piccolo growled, "Wishing Cell back to life—somehow."

"They're—they're what?"

"Son is foolish," he continued. "But of course, none of us can stop him. Even Vegeta hardly put up a fight."

"You guys can beat him—right?" the god of Earth bit his lip in concern as he turned his attention to Trunks, laying his hands over the boy's broken leg.

"I hope so." Piccolo looked to Vejata, and seemed to notice her appearance for the first time. He frowned and lifted his hand to her, and her tattered clothes were replaced with a fresh outfit. Immediately he regretted making it so like Vegeta's—but it would be petty to change it now. She gave him a short growl, crossing her arms and wrapping her tail around her waist. Piccolo set Goten down before Dende as Trunks moved out of the way, and the smaller Namekian focused on healing the boy, who slowly came into consciousness.

"What...happened?"

"The Cell guy knocked you out cold," Trunks helped him up.

"The bug guy?"

"That's the one."

"Who's that?" Goten blinked, pointing at Cole.

"Some bitch who thinks she knows stuff," Trunks frowned. "She's a Saiyajin, but she's a total weakling."

"Am _not_!" she huffed. "And I have a _name_. Cole!"

"Okay," Goten bowed. "You seem nice."

"I ain't."

"O-okay." He smiled a little, and she smirked in return. Goten glanced around and paused when he noticed Vejata. "That's the girl one, right?" he pointed. "What's _she _doing here?"

"Hell if I know," Trunks shrugged, and leaned in close to Goten, "but I think that Cell guy sucked up somebody that she wants out, 'cause she won't stop talking about it."

"I don't get it," he blinked, and frowned a little. "Whaddaya mean? Sucked somebody up? I was asleep the whole time all this happened, y'know, Trunks!" he crossed his arms, sticking his tongue out.

"All right, lemme tell you..."

"I can tell it better!" Cole boasted.

"Can_not_!"

...

"Son Goku," Muuri spoke, "It's hardly my business to delve into personal matters—and really, I think it was unwise enough of me to let that woman—but—this is—"

"Please," Goku nearly begged, "You gotta!"

The Namekian glanced toward Vegeta, who seemed subdued, gritting his teeth with things on his mind that he didn't appear to be ready to speak.

"I bet Vegeta wants to fight him too," Goku glanced toward the prince. "Don'tcha?"

Vegeta frowned. "Kakarrot, I'm not like you."

Goku raised his eyebrows. "What? No way, Vegeta, I know you love fighting—"

"I thought watching your son die would be enough," he spoke quietly. "But I guess anyone before that wasn't."

"I know dying sucks," Goku pouted, "And you ain't being fair, saying it like that. Of course I care—but—but fighting is so much _fun_—an'...they can be brought back...or I can...anybody...y'know?"

"Fuck this, Kakarrot."

"Wh...what?"

"Do whatever you will. I can't stop you."

"You—" Goku paused. Vegeta was probably right—physically, he wasn't strong enough to stop him from doing anything he wanted. The man was so grave in his expression, his tone. But saying that he couldn't stop him? Why, if he just asked Goku not to—the Saiyajin shifted his weight, thinking. Would he go against Vegeta's wishes like that? Maybe the prince had some reasons for not wanting to bring this stronger-than-ever Cell back to life—sure. But they had always won before, and thanks to the dragon balls, not a soul was left dead. Well, besides him, after that fight—but he'd chosen that.

"Let me make this easy for you," a deep voice spoke from behind them, and Cell finally stepped forward, looking Muuri in the eye. "Summon the dragon and wish me back to life—if you want your planet and your favorite little heroes to make it to tomorrow."

Muuri's eyes darted to Goku, and then Vegeta, and then back to Goku. "Do it," Goku finally muttered. Vegeta closed his eyes.

Cell grinned and chuckled. "I'll say it again—you never fail me, Son Goku." He crossed his arms, tilting his head. "We're not so different, you and I."

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head, and then glanced at Vegeta, who held his eyes closed. Goku sighed, and his own eyes were fixed on his boots as Porunga burst forth.

...

"You don't get it," Trunks smirked. "Goten and I are just way better than you."

"Naw."

"You aren't a Super Saiyajin, are you?"

Cole blinked. "W-well...I'm..._gonna _be!"

"And you don't know the fusion technique, either!" the boy continued.

"I...I bet Vegeta and Kakarrot were gonna..."

"You act like they like you," Trunks rolled his eyes and threw an arm around Goten's shoulders. "But even if they do, they like us better. They're our _dads_."

"My dad is dead," she frowned. "So that's not even fair. He was real strong too!"

"My dad _was_ dead," Goten piped up. "Then there was the tournament and the Buu monster and now he's alive again. I dunno exactly how it happened."

"Children," Piccolo boomed, suddenly behind them. "Don't you think you could be doing more productive things?"

"Like what?"

"Your fathers might need our help—they probably will. How are you going to fight? What is your strategy?"

"We're gonna be Gotenks!" Goten grinned, and Trunks nodded.

"And?"

"'And?'" Trunks repeated, scoffing, before feigning shock. "_Oh_, he doesn't know about it," he gave a wide smirk.

"Well a' course not," Goten frowned, "since you said to keep it a secret an'..."

"All right. What is 'it'?"

The boys glanced at each other. "A secret!" they bloomed into grins.

"Can you tell me?" Cole tugged on Goten's _gi_.

"M-maybe?" he glanced toward Trunks, who shook his head. "No..."

Piccolo rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder toward Vejata. She spoke to Bulma quietly, tail twitching gently behind her. He considered trying to tune out their conversation—from the way Bulma leaned in close to hear Vejata's nearly inaudible words, he guessed it was probably something he was not meant to hear—but there were more important things at hand than politeness.

"...didn't seem too eager about the fight," Vejata was muttering, "is it related to what the Namekian alluded to, something that your son doesn't know—"

"Maybe," Bulma nodded.

"What—"

"It's a confusing story," she muttered, "but years ago Trunks from a different timeline than our own traveled to the past to warn us about some cyborgs."

"That he said the Cell creature spit up?"

"Those same ones," she nodded. "And that Trunks was there when they fought Cell. Vegeta told me," Bulma paused, glancing sideways wistfully, "he told me that Cell killed Trunks, the Trunks from the future. I think he's worried about it happening to our Trunks..." she exhaled heavily, "_I'm_ worried as hell." Her eyes narrowed, and her gaze was suddenly accusatory. "Why were you so keen on them not killing Cell for good?"

Vejata leaned closer to Bulma. "I'm worried as hell, too."

"Wh..." she paused. "There _is_ someone he absorbed that you want out, huh?"

She nodded solemnly. "I—I thought—" she gritted her teeth. "I thought death meant being _gone_, then—at least convinced myself of it—"

"Who is it?"

"I can't explain," she shook her head.

"Come on," Bulma touched her arm, desperate to know what had caused this spark of—she couldn't think of a word but _humanity_—in the woman. "I'm not going to laugh, or anything, you know. I won't tell anyone." The two of them glanced toward Piccolo, who had been holding his gaze in their direction. He turned away, ears tinged red as he seemed to find something to discuss with Dende. Moments later, Cole was yanking at his cape, frowning and asking him something—or maybe demanding it—and Piccolo turned to speak with Trunks and Goten. Whatever he was saying, Bulma couldn't hear it—her senses were fuzzy with Vejata's closeness as she remembered what had happened last time she could so distinctly hear the woman's breathing.

"It doesn't matter."

Bulma frowned, poking at the woman's sternum. "Now listen here—here I am having a civil conversation with you even though I know full well what you did to Son. The least you can do for me is answer my goddamn questions."

"Fine. What are you to Prince Vegeta? What is Kakarrot to Prince Vegeta? She is both those things to me. A sparring partner, and a—a..." she trailed off, glancing away.

The woman blinked. "O...oh." She smiled a little. "And you found her again in Hell?"

"Yes. Cell was going for me, but—absorbed her instead."

"Well," Bulma grabbed her hand reassuringly, and Vejata glanced down at it, "We'll figure out how to save her. Son will—"

"Kakarrot won't do a damn thing for me," she snapped. "And you know it." Her eyes met Bulma's. "I wouldn't ask him to, either. Only—shit, there's no way I stand a chance against this thing. And if they just kill it—well, that won't do any good, either. Probably they'll find some way to get rid of it completely, since they know it can escape Hell..."

"I don't know how to say this," the corner of Bulma's mouth turned down a little as she thought, "but look, it's kind of—somehow—it always turns out that our side wins. It always turns out...right. And I think...I hope...it'll be that way again."

"I think Kakarrot would tell you that I," she narrowed her eyes, "_ain't exactly on 'your side.'_"

Bulma bit her lip. "We'll figure it out."

"I know the gods would never side with me," Vejata muttered, "and I'm not inclined to ask for help, but—shit—" her hands balled into fists. "I need this."

"I think you should tell Son, when he gets back." The queen glanced up at her, and Bulma gave her a thumbs-up. "I'll back you up. I'd like to think that as his first-ever friend, I have a little sway. Maybe he and Vegeta can figure out a way to get your," she smirked slyly, "_lover_ out of Cell before they kill him."

"_Whoa_," Trunks whistled, and both their eyes widened as they turned to face him, crossing his arms as he stood just to their side. He snickered. "Vejata's got a boyfriend!"

"Girlfriend," Bulma corrected matter-of-factly.

Vejata looked away, flushing as she grumbled syllables with the distinct sound of "eavesdropping whelp."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," the boy took on his mother's knowing tone. "Finally, somebody else who gets it." At the curious stares of the two women, he elaborated, "Girls are gross, so if they just stay together they can keep their grossness all to themselves." Bulma snickered, and Vejata simply maintained her raised eyebrows. Trunks closed his eyes and turned to Goten, who had since joined him next to Bulma. "But Goten, do you know what's even _worse_ than girls?"

"Nuh-uh."

He glanced past Goten to Cole, staring at her for a moment in apparent disgust before turning back to his friend. "_Weak_ girls."

She stepped around Goten to stand face to face with Trunks. "You ever known the taste of your intestines comin' up through your mouth?" He shook his head, suddenly dazed, and she cracked her knuckles. "Wanna find out?"

"I changed my mind," Goten crossed his arms. "You're not nice. You're scary."

"I aim to be."

"But not as scary as my mom."

"We'll see about that."

The three whipped around at the sound of a loud cough behind them. "Excuse me, children, but this doesn't look much like _teaching the fusion dance _to me." At their blank stares, he barked, "Well? Get back to work!"


	10. 10

NOTE: Hello, all (any?). I hope this isn't getting too boring! The actual fight will start soon enough, I guess (probably in the next chapter or two - which you would probably guess as well). I'm pretty nervous, because I don't often write fight scenes, especially not extensive ones. We'll see how it goes...maybe the fight will turn out to be shorter than I planned, haha. A domino effect of changes to my original plan has allowed me to do a lot of development before the battle rather than during it, so maybe things will change completely from what I had in mind when I started. (I also wasn't planning on having Cole along when I plotted out this story, so who knows how that will affect things!)

Anyway, I hope you're enjoying it! Please let me know if you have any thoughts/comments/critique.

...

"How generous of you," Cell, now lacking a halo, clapped his hand against Muuri, and the Namekian was nearly knocked over; Goku caught him, frowning at Cell.

"One thing," Vegeta finally spoke again, and raised his eyes to the creature.

"Yes?"

"Given the precedent you set last time," he spoke quietly, "it would not be unrealistic to assume that you will not attack us—any of us—for a day."

"A day?" Cell seemed to consider this. "Fine," he smirked, "so far as your chances of winning go, it doesn't matter if it's one day or a hundred—but it seems Hell has worn down my capacity for patience, so one day will do."

"Don't bother anybody on Earth," Goku added, glancing toward Vegeta. "I don't want no one getting hurt if we already agreed we're not gonna fight in that, y'know, window a' time."

"I won't hurt a single one of your precious Earthlings," Cell agreed, chuckling. "What kind of a monster do you think I am? Now, you'd best get back there to prepare, hm?"

Goku nodded a little, and Vegeta planted one hand firmly against the man's shoulder. He shivered as Cell teleported himself away, and with careful effort sensed him as he arrived on Earth. "Let's go, Kakarrot." He nodded, and they went.

...

Gohan froze mid-equation, yielding to the chills that washed over him, weakly covering the hot anger that flared up inside, that snapped the pencil in his hand. "You," he hissed.

"Just visiting," the voice only served to shake Gohan's tenuous hold on his calm.

"Go away," he clutched at his papers, and they wrinkled beneath his fists. The open book against which he braced himself tore in half, and Gohan felt the swelling of the mysterious power that had brought out of him by the old Kai.

Cell seemed to feel it, too, and grinned. "Oh, don't worry; I've promised your father that I won't be killing anyone for the next twenty-four hours."

"_Go_..." his clenched teeth barely allowed for the passage of sound through them, "_away_..." As his heart pounded harder, he felt his gut drop from beneath him—in a flicker and a flash, the power from the Kai had fallen away from him and he strained to keep the gold from sifting through his hair.

"Come to think of it, I saw a number of your friends earlier. I look forward to fighting them. Will you be joining us, Son Gohan?" Cell crossed his arms casually, grin growing as Gohan ascended. "After all, you saved them from such peril last time. Well—besides your father, of course."

Sparks danced around Gohan's quaking form, and his thoughts rushed past too quickly for him to wonder where his calmer power had gone; the rage behind memories and thoughts he had spent years moving past resurfaced and his eyes gleamed a dangerous teal. "Get the _fuck_ out of my house," he warned. This state was confusion—was blazing confidence, usually, but right now a maddening need to escape from the thing that gnawed at what he had tried to leave on the backburner.

"Your brother put up quite a fight, by the way," the being began to turn around, leaning against the doorframe with his back to Gohan. "For being so young. But you were stronger. I'd like to fight you again."

"My brother?" he rumbled.

"Your friends showed up just in time, though. Even Piccolo—ah, I forgot to thank him again for giving me that glorious power of regeneration. Well, I'm sure I'll see him soon enough." Cell closed his eyes, chortling a little, but his breath caught in his throat as Gohan slammed him through the side of the house, kneeing him into the ground after he tumbled for a distance, and landing such that one foot laid against either side of Cell's body. Before the being could react to the flickering lightning of Gohan's form, the half-Saiyajin lifted one foot and slammed it into Cell's abdomen, digging it in deep before lifting it again. Cell moved as if to attack in kind, but seemed to remember something as he paused and reconsidered—and then remembered something again, as his eyes widened. His cool smirk faded into a glare to rival Gohan's in madness—as Gohan slammed his fist into his palm and slowly stepped forward, now-tenuous ties to reality barely holding.

Cell coughed and clutched at his stomach, apparently retching, and Gohan took a step closer. He shook his head madly for a few moments, and then heaved some unidentifiable form, encased in saliva and slime, from his mouth. Gohan paused to glance back at the form, anger faltering as he struggled to remember if it was a familiar one. Cell straightened himself, wiping loose strands from his mouth and meeting Gohan's eyes. "It doesn't matter," he eventually chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "That one was weak, and was making me queasy anyway." As Gohan seemed to shake himself to his senses, Cell smirked. "Well, I'd best not provoke you further—until tomorrow, at least." He took to the sky, and Gohan did not follow, shaking as he dropped out of his ascended state and fell to his knees on the ground.

"Damn," he clutched at the grass beneath his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. After years of training himself to be calm, to think things through with a level head like his mentor, years of quiet schoolwork and meditation, which he had even maintained so well against Buu—after these years—the monster still lived within him.

But something near him was not living, and he could tell by the halo that drifted over its head outside the slime coating. The being coughed weakly, and uncurled, but did little more before falling back into unconsciousness. Gohan approached carefully, noting beneath the slick and dripping coating her tail and the distinctive way her hair stood in spikes even as it was weighed down by the liquid. "A Saiyajin," he muttered to himself, voice cracking a little as the waves of heavy emotion still ebbed. "A dead Saiyajin...that Cell absorbed." He bit his lip, hoping that he could compose himself in the time it would take him to reach the Lookout.

...

"Did you feel that?" Goku asked quietly as he and Vegeta approached the others.

"Your son," Vegeta nodded. "Cell was near him."

"I don't think Cell powered up, tho'—and I don' think he'd break his promise that quick."

Vegeta shook his head. "But you know the kid, Kakarrot—a child, even your own," he frowned a bit, "doesn't go through that without _something_ happening to him, and he didn't exactly get over it quickly—"

Goku's eyes widened. "Naw, I—I didn't know that."

Vegeta pressed his lips together. "Mm. That's right; you weren't there."

The man wondered if Vegeta had brought it up on purpose—if he was trying to make him feel bad. After all, it had been Cell that had killed him then. Was he worried now that the same thing would happen? "It's not gonna be like that again, Vegeta—I promise. I saw what Heaven's got, and I'll go back there someday, but I ain't gonna stay there for now."

"Thirty years," Vegeta murmured.

"What?"

"I guess that's about all the longer I've got left before I can't fight anymore. More for you—you're younger. Your body's younger."

"How do y' know—that that's it?"

"Only old hearsay. I don't know—I don't really know what happens."

"An' after you get old—"

"Once I'm dead, I'll be no more." They rounded the corner, and nearly collided with Vejata. Vegeta wondered briefly if she'd heard what they'd been saying—she frowned and moved out of the way, watching them carefully as they paced up to Piccolo, and as Bulma dove into Vegeta's hesitant arms.

"I sensed him just a minute ago," Piccolo muttered, and Dende nodded, waiting wide-eyed to find out whether the two Saiyajin had any new information. "Gohan."

"I dunno what happened," Goku frowned. "But I'm sure he's okay."

"He's on his way here," Piccolo added.

"Oh," Goku smiled, "well, that's good." He turned to Dende. "Cell promised not to hurt anybody for a day, so we can get ready."

The young Namekian nodded. "Your sons are already doing that. Piccolo is having them teach that girl the fusion technique, in case she needs to fuse with one of them—should the other fall," he added the last part in a quiet, somber voice.

"That's a good idea," Goku nodded, and turned to the prince. "What should we do, Vegeta?"

"We can't go back into the Room of Spirit and Time, so I doubt there will be any use in either of us training now, for such a short time. We should strategize, and mentally prepare. And," he turned away, "I need to speak with my son."

"Y-yeah," Goku answered weakly, nodding as he wondered if he was the only one excited for this fight. Piccolo watched him carefully, and Goku stepped closer to the Namekian. "Nobody ever told me fighting Cell messed Gohan up. Did—did you know?"

"Of course I did," he murmured.

"I mean, he said something about it just today, y'know, but I didn't _know_..."

"Don't make him fight, Son."

"I...I won't." He swallowed and laughed nervously, pacing over to the children to watch as they practiced. Vegeta had been doing the same, and now nudged Trunks' shoulder and motioned to an unoccupied area of the platform in the sky. Bulma made as if to follow, but Vegeta shook his head apologetically. All activity paused, however, when Gohan alit nearby carrying a limp body.

"Hey," he greeted them with a shaky voice.

"What happened?" Piccolo demanded.

Gohan neared him, still carrying the body. "Cell just...showed up. He—well—I—I got mad and," he lowered his gaze, "I attacked him. He sure wasn't expecting it...so I...got in a couple of pretty good hits." He bit his lip, as if he could only recall fuzzily what had happened in that time. "Then—remember how he spit the cyborgs back up?" Vejata whipped around from her distant post, eyes widening as she looked at the body for the first time. "He coughed up this—this woman. She must be Saiyajin."

"Shallot," Vejata whispered, and it came out louder than she intended, for even those standing at a distance pinned their eyes against her. Gohan laid the body before Dende, and Vejata hurried forward, crouching down to look over the woman's features, crusted with half-dried slime, as Dende glanced up toward Goku and then Piccolo, who nodded. As her body glowed dimly, her eyes flickered open. "Shallot," Vejata repeated.

"Shit," the Saiyajin sat up, rubbing her temples. "If that ain't about the most disgusting thing—" she grimaced, picking the mess out of her hair. It was then that she noticed the figure beside her. "Vegeta," her voice was far too neutral for the other woman's comfort. She glanced around. "Where are we?" and then her eyes widened, "There's—shoot, Vegeta, there's another _you _here! That ain't one of those copies, surely..."

"No. The original," Vejata explained. She stood and held her hand out to Shallot, who ignored it as she stood shakily.

"So this is her, huh?" Bulma grinned, planting her hands on her hips. Vegeta glanced at her curiously, and Vejata nodded, frowning a little as her ears reddened.

"Come with me," Vejata moved closer to Shallot. "We need to talk."

"You're tellin' _me_," she glanced around. "What part of Hell is _this_?"

Goku watched as Vejata directed the woman away, and the others resumed their activity as the two women settled into a quiet conversation. The queen stood very close to the other woman—brushed up against her, on occasion, and the thought of the contact sent chills down his spine and bile up his throat. Still, their touches were gentle—open. As they moved farther away, just out of view, he shifted his position so that he could continue to watch. They brushed lips, and the unfamiliar woman grinned a little, tail thrashing about. Vejata frowned, and whatever it was she was saying had to be angry—but he recognized the faint blush across her cheeks and ears as the one that spread onto Vegeta's features when he and Bulma argued over something silly. Why had he never seen this other woman before? Vejata had never mentioned—

But then he remembered the halo over the woman's head—she had been dead until Cell brought her into the living world, and wishing Cell back to life had not wished back all those inside him. As she and the other woman interacted, Vejata moved in a way that was entirely different than the last time he had allowed himself to pay so much attention to her. Her motions were hesitant, honest. He wondered—who was this other woman? Was Vejata normally like this around her? But he turned away before he could arouse too much suspicion from them, for Vejata had glanced his way more than once, and he shuffled away to find Gohan speaking with Piccolo.

"...you aren't, kid, and you shouldn't worry about it—your father won't make you fight."

"How do you know I'm not—"

"I've seen monsters," he seemed introspective for a moment, and then shifted his weight, "and they don't cry afterward."

"I don't think _you_ really count—"

"I wasn't talking about myself," he assured him. "If you don't recall, I died somewhat recently—at the hands of some copies of Vegeta." He winced. "Perhaps your brother has told you the story." Gohan nodded solemnly; Goten had not spelled things out in detail, but what he had said had been enough for anyone with his wits about him to figure it out. Whatever it was, it had been ugly for Goten and Trunks—and based on the way the Namekian closed his eyes and slowed his breathing to calm himself down, it had been ugly for him, too. "You're not like that."

"I guess, but...I don't want to..." he shook his head. "I'm sorry—I never came to talk to you about that, about how you died and..."

"We can talk about it later," he rumbled.

"So—d'you suppose that Cell absorbed some of those—those copy Vegetas in Hell? If he absorbed that other Saiyajin, that must be how he got so much stronger..."

"May have. I think that's a sound prediction. What do you think, Son?" Piccolo turned to Goku, to remind him that he was well aware they were being listened to.

"I—I think—yeah," he nodded. "Gohan, I—" he bit his lip, "I'm sorry. 'Bout, y'know—uh—that is—I didn't know an'...I don't want you to feel like you gotta fight, Gohan."

"Thanks," Gohan smiled. "Dad, maybe you should talk to Goten—he hasn't seen you for a while." The man nodded and made his way over to the boy.

...

"So we're fighting this Cell thing," Shallot crossed her arms. "Arright. But if—"

"Not you," Vejata shook her head. "You can't fight."

"Shit, Vegeta, I know I'm weaker'n you now, but I _can _fight—"

"No. You're dead. If he kills you—you're gone. Forever. You won't fight."

"I ain't betraying you and your team." Vejata opened her mouth to correct her, but Shallot continued, "I'm no coward. But I ain't dumb, either—I won't let myself get killed."

"You almost did—if it wouldn't have spit you back up—"

"But it did, an' I know better now. It ain't your choice, anyhow, whether I fight."

The queen lowered her eyebrows resolutely. "Fine. Whatever. Fight—but don't get yourself killed."

"Some words," Shallot spat, "coming from _you_." Vejata opened her mouth, and Shallot crossed her arms, lifting her nose into the air. "Don't act like you're forgiven." She frowned. "Anywho, I gotta keep a good amount a' anger goin'. Otherwise the second they take me back to Hell, if I'm too happy like, they'll just put me through that machine an' clean all of _me_ outta my soul."

"If that's what it takes," Vejata smirked a little.

Shallot smirked back. "Well, it is." She threw a punch at Vejata's face, and the queen ducked away, staring wide-eyed. Shallot's smirk grew. "Just for good measure, y'know."

"Of course."


	11. 11

NOTE: Sorry for the slightly longer wait on this one! I don't think it's a very strong chapter, but uh...the fight's coming soon, so hopefully things'll get more exciting! Me, I'm kind of nervous for it, haha...but am excited for the ending. I hope you'll like it. If you don't mind a little bit of a spoiler for something that's going to happen in a future chapter, check out the (very) small animation I made—link on my profile page.

...

"Trunks," Vegeta spoke quietly as he and his son stepped out of the area of activity.

"Yeah?" His voice was neutral, quiet. The last time he had spoken with his father was—well, was a while ago, but somehow things had changed. His mother looked on from farther away, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, wondering vaguely if Piccolo could zap a proper fighting outfit onto his body with his mysterious powers. After all, if they were going to fight Cell, he wouldn't do it in a tee-shirt and jeans—but then, if he fused with Goten, it wouldn't be a problem; Gotenks had his own clothing, much more suited for fighting.

Vegeta seemed to see where his thoughts were going. "Trunks, I—I don't—don't want you to fight Cell."

"Dad," he shuffled his feet, "I'm gonna fuse with Goten. We'll be fine, I swear! Gotenks is stronger than you!" He stared his father down defiantly even as Vegeta appeared affronted at the words, and the prince's features eventually settled back into relative neutrality.

"So he is."

"And what's the big deal, anyway? I know better than you that it sucked when I died, but maybe this guy isn't the same. None of you guys..." he paused to let the air fill in the blank, "y'know, when you fought 'im first, right?"

"It was quick," Vegeta spoke ominously. "But—"

"What? I thought—I didn't figure you died—"

"I didn't." He took in a deep breath. "You did."

"But I thought I was a baby, why would I even—"

"Not _you_."

"Dad," he shuffled again, "I really gotta talk with Goten about something. You're not making any sense, so...if you've got something to say..."

"I'm not a monster," he blurted, and stuffed his arms over his chest.

"Dad—"

"Cell killed you, and I—Trunks—you—"

"Dad." He moved closer to his father; Vegeta was visibly shaken, or at least as shaken as the boy had seen the proud man. It reminded him a little of Buu—of before his father knocked him out, and died. He'd heard how, and in the years since had come to realize the meaning of it. As he heard stories from his mother, of how Vegeta was before, and how he was when he was just a baby—they didn't even seem like the same person. When he had ruthlessly attacked Vejata—he had turned back into that man. But now, Trunks was sure, he was back; he had to be. "It's not a big deal, whatever it is..."

Vegeta closed his eyes and breathed deeply, gathering himself. "Trunks, you saved the world before you were born."

"Me?"

"Not you—but—" he rubbed his temples, "shit, I can't believe your mother never told you about this."

"This isn't another of those 'when a boy gets older' speeches, is it?" he raised an eyebrow dubiously. "'Cause, Dad, I know. Or," he waited as his father shook his head, "well, whatever, just spit it out. Come on!"

"In another...in another universe, much bleaker than this one, your mother built a time machine, and you came back in time to save us—Kakarrot was going to die—"

"But I thought he _did_—"

"Listen to me, boy. Trunks-from-the-future was there when we fought Cell. Cell killed him—you—him—I—" he stepped in front of the boy so that no one could see his face, and his eyes were downcast. "It was...just...don't...and I had only known him for—but—you've grown with me, boy, and—I don't want to know what I'd do—" he was forced to look Trunks in the eyes as the boy stepped into his field of view. "It could be...awful," he finished quietly. Vegeta glanced behind him quickly, toward the others, but the only one who seemed to be paying attention to him was Bulma. Gohan, Piccolo, and Dende were still engaged in conversation, and Goku was critiquing Cole's form as she moved through the fusion poses with Goten. Vejata and the woman who had arrived the most recently were the farthest away—Vegeta watched for a moment as they conversed quietly, animated in a way that he had only glimpsed of Vejata perhaps once before, as she had interacted with Bulma. Maybe they were more alike than he wanted to think—but maybe some beasts could be tamed. When he turned back to Trunks, the boy was gazing in the same direction he had.

"Weird, huh?" the boy asked.

"What?"

"Guess sometimes there's that one person that makes somebody not so bad."

"I guess."

Trunks smirked a little. "Dad, Goten and I will try to be extra careful—okay?"

"You know," Vegeta crossed his arms, "in the other future, Kakarrot died before he could have a second brat."

"Yeah?" Trunks mirrored his stance. "Guess I have myself to thank for Goten, then!" He thought for a moment. "Can you tell me more about the other me?"

"Later."

"Okay. Dad?" 

"Yes?"

"Thanks." His eyes lit up. "Y'know, maybe there's hope for you."

Vegeta smirked.

...

"Hey."

Vejata froze, glancing upward as Piccolo towered over her in her sitting position. "What do you want?" she finally managed.

Piccolo turned to Shallot. "So—Cell spit you up."

"Yeah," Shallot crossed her arms. "Almost as bad 's being swallowed. What about it?"

He didn't seem to hear her question, turning to Vejata and motioning to Gohan that he should join them. "If he knew Vejata was stronger, why didn't he absorb her too?"

"He said his power was enough to get out with just Shallot," Vejata volunteered, standing so that she would feel less dwarfed by Gohan and the Namekian.

"It didn't take much for him to cough—" Gohan glanced toward the Saiyajin.

"Shallot."

"—to cough Shallot up." He fumbled with the cuffs of his sleeves. "That is, I mean, sure, I was powered up, but it was only a blow or two...or...I think," he flushed, "I don't remember exactly."

"Interesting," Piccolo mused. "It took a lot more than that before Seventeen and Eighteen were spit back up."

"Maybe because they were supposed to be integral parts of him," Gohan offered.

"He was clearly designed to be able to continue to drawing power from others by incorporating them into himself—if his tail could still take them in."

"Rushed design?" He shrugged.

"Instability," Vejata added. "An upper limit."

Piccolo nodded. "Perhaps—too many beings, or too much power in him, and he can't hold it in anymore. It would only make sense that they would be spit up in reverse order, and that it would take much less effort to draw someone out were he close to this limit."

"Makes sense enough," Gohan nodded. "Fight on too full a stomach and you're bound to lose your lunch. Except my dad," he laughed. As Piccolo merely shrugged and smiled a bit, Gohan realized that he probably had never experienced such a thing. "Or...drink...too much water...and you're bound to lose your...uh..." he added weakly, and Vejata chortled.

"We have our strategy, then," Piccolo immediately commanded their attention as he straightened, crossing his arms. "We don't know who he absorbed—or in what order—but every part of him must be weaker than him."

"So..."

"We knock pieces out of him. We can take any of them, with enough effort—and Cell will weaken in the process. With any luck, we can whittle him down to nearly the level he was at when he left us."

"And by _we_..." Gohan started.

"You needn't join us," Piccolo smirked. "I think we can handle this."

...

"I dunno," Goku shifted his weight. "I mean, that's not real fair..."

"Oh, shut up," Vegeta growled. "It's our best strategy. Just because _you _want to fight him at full strength doesn't mean all of _us _want to lose our..." he trailed off, and Bulma and Piccolo nodded.

"Yeah," Cole piped up. "Not all of us wanna die!" Trunks and Goten glanced at each other.

"We got dragon balls for that," Goku tried to reassure Cole. "It'll be okay."

"Kakarrot," Vegeta spoke warningly. "You know that he's stronger than you."

"Well...well, yeah."

"So how you were planning on beating him?" 

"I...I dunno...I...could prolly...think up a good way...sorta...it kinda happens, y'know, while you're fighting," he paused, and under Vegeta's glare he continued, "like, you get this real good idea for what to do that second, an'...it works! That's what fighting is! That's how it always happens, y'know, like with Freeza, and..."

"The last time we fought him," Piccolo reminded him, "we did so with little to no strategy, at your insistence."

"And it worked out okay!""

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the man, and Gohan lowered his gaze. Goten bit his lip.

"Arright, well...I guess...I guess it'll probably happen anyway, that he'll spit people out," Goku scratched his head. "Right?"

"Probably," Piccolo nodded. "But we need to make sure of it."

"Kakarrot," Vegeta insisted. Goku had a point—it would probably happen anyway—but at Goku's blatant disregard for—well—he had to insist that the man agree. Maybe Saiyajin pride had its place—and there was some value in fighting on one's own, against the strongest opponent. But he drew the line at Cell—this was different. And the prince knew from the way that Piccolo, Gohan, and Goten kept their eyes trained on the man that they felt it was different as well.

"So we're...not gonna fight him one-on-one?"

"No."

The Saiyajin stared into Vegeta's eyes—firm, but pleading beneath that. Trunks stood beside his father, crossing his arms and projecting the same conviction. "A-arright."

Shallot glanced toward Vejata, who had remained silent throughout. She postured herself such that Goku did not have to look into her eyes at any time, the Saiyajin noticed, and Goku didn't seem to be upset by this. She remembered that the queen had said something about some strong Saiyajin, and this one seemed to be the ringleader—right, right, this was Kakarrot; the prince had said the name. And she had done...something...to him...

"Obviously Goku, Vegeta, and I will be fighting," Piccolo continued. "And Trunks and Goten will fuse. If the time runs out, and one of them is injured, Cole can take his place." She nodded resolutely, smirking. "If we all attack at once, we should maximize our chances of knocking other beings out of him." 

"I'll attack as well, of course," Vejata added, as if challenging him, and Shallot nodded from beside her. 

"Please," Vegeta rolled his eyes. "You'll do no good. Especially the new one."

Piccolo glanced over the two of them. Vejata took a subtle step in front of Shallot, as if Vegeta's verbal attack might be echoed by a physical one. "They'll fight. The more of us there are, the more of us can distract Cell. Besides, someone needs to fight the beings he spits up." He paused, watching Goku and Vegeta carefully as he added, "That aside, should the need arise she would not be an unsuitable fusion partner." Vejata blinked, shocked that he would suggest it—she had thought about it, herself, but knew better than to try to bring it up to them. Besides—the last person she wanted to fuse with was Vegeta.

Goku shifted uneasily. "I dunno..." Thinking quickly, he added, "Anyway, you're stronger, right, Piccolo? And you know the dance, too."

"Should the need arise," he repeated.

"It won't," he asserted.

"Well then, let's guarantee it. Check Karin's for some _senzu_ and let's get some rest."


	12. 12

"I like to play fair," a voice boomed from behind them, and they all froze, breakfasts at various levels of being polished off. "So I'll wait until you finish eating before we fight. Oh," Cell raised his eyebrows as if surprised, "Gohan, pleased to see you here. I look forward to fighting you." He sounded outright jovial—and Goku shoveled food into his mouth faster, if such a thing was possible.

"I'm not fighting," Gohan spoke, spoon quivering between his fingers.

"We'll see. You might _have _to if your father can't get the job done," he taunted.

Goku slammed his empty bowl down, standing and grinning. "I'm gonna beat you Cell, don't worry! And I'm not gonna die this time, neither!" He glanced toward Vegeta, who kept his eyes trained on his food.

"Dad," Gohan stood, carefully pushing his chair in. "I'm going to get mother and Videl, and bring them up here, so that they're safe. The others, too—they should know what's going on, even if they're not fighting."

Goku nodded, and Piccolo gave Gohan a reassuring smirk.

"I don't think so," Cell nearly shouted, moving in front of him, and continued more smoothly, "I assure you, they will be safe."

"Move," Gohan steeled himself, willing his shaking muscles to still.

When Cell didn't do as Gohan commanded, Vegeta glanced up and barked, "You heard the man! Get the hell out of his way or we'll do away with you before Kakarrot gets to have all his fun." Gohan raised his eyebrows at the prince—since when did Vegeta refer to him as a man?—and ducked past Cell as the creature stood still.

"Thanks," Gohan waved, leaping from the platform.

As Cell continued to stand still, crossing his arms and watching the others, Shallot strode up to him, walking around him and grimacing. "Ugh. To think that I was inside the likes of you!" she spat on his foot.

"Shallot," Vejata warned, bringing herself to her feet.

"He _is_ pretty damn gross," Cole added, rising and balling her fists as the being locked eyes with her. Goten pulled her back, shaking his head.

"Are you all ready, then?" Cell finally spoke, tapping his foot as if he didn't notice the saliva that rested upon it. "I don't see anyone still eating."

Piccolo held up a glass of water, and Goten and Trunks snickered. Taking a slow sip from the glass, he rapped his fingers on the table, stealing a sideways glance at the children. He set the glass down carefully. "Shall we?"

"Me first!" Goku hopped back and forth. "Lemme stretch!"

Snorting, Vegeta turned away, motioning for the others to follow him. Bulma gave him a short kiss and a warning glare—_don't die_—and joined Dende in waving them off. She pulled her son into a hug as he passed. "Don't let your father do anything stupid," she ruffled his hair, "and don't you do anything stupid, either."

"Don't worry," he gave her a thumbs-up. "We'll be okay." He took off with Goten and Cole.

Vejata narrowed her eyes at Shallot. "Remember what I said."

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes. "I ain't some moron. I've got a particular interest in _not dying forever_." Waving one hand to dismiss the queen, Shallot followed the children. Vejata turned to Bulma, and the human woman noticed her eyes focusing away in thought for a moment.

"You're going too, right?" Bulma asked after a moment.

"Yeah," she answered absently. "I am going. Don't worry."

"I wasn't—"

"I don't know what will happen after this," Vejata spoke quickly.

Bulma shrugged. "Do any of us? Anyway, Son seems confident enough. And after the battle—we can see about wishing your girlfriend back."

Vejata smirked a little. "Yes, we'll see."

"You seem to get along with her," she smiled. "It must feel nice, if you're finally at peace."

She seemed thoughtful. "It will, I think." Vejata seemed to snap back into awareness as Goku, now warmed-up, hopped off the edge, rocketing after his friends. "I'd best hurry."

"Yeah. Good luck!"

Vejata smirked and lifted her fingers to her brow.

...

"Are you done warming up?" Cell nearly laughed. "Come on, Son Goku. I know what you have up your sleeve—Super Saiyajin level three."

"Yeah," Goku grinned. "Y' got me. All right, so you really wanna see it, huh?" He turned to the others. "Just gimme a few more minutes fighting Cell on my lonesome, okay? You guys can join in after I show 'im what a Super Saiyajin three can do!"

Vegeta seemed to grumble something from the ground below, and Piccolo knelt down to speak with Goten and Trunks. Cole listened in as well, and Vejata stepped up next to Vegeta, Shallot behind her.

"I can't tell," Vejata spoke quietly as Goku powered up. "Which is stronger?"

"Cell," Vegeta answered, shifting his gaze to her. He supposed that on the battlefield, she had to forget how viciously he had killed her, and he himself had to forget what she had done to him—and Goku. As he himself had been when the Earthlings faced Freeza and the others on Namek, now she was simply a calculated risk—albeit a much more useless one than he had been. Vegeta supposed that unless she had trained strenuously in Hell, on her best day the queen could match Piccolo.

Maybe she wasn't really putting aside what he had done to her, upon his return from Earth—her violent death. But maybe she didn't need to; it seemed enough that she had expected it. And without the weight of her planet on her shoulders, she seemed—tamer. He shook himself. He, too, was tamer—far tamer than he had been when he'd first come to Earth. He blamed Bulma, and Goku, and most especially his son for it. But he had never been stronger than when provoked by something involving them.

And now, it seemed, she had someone to blame for it too—this new woman, this Shallot. Vejata was alive—would she wish this woman back? Would the flurry of nervousness he saw in Goku every time she neared him abate as she settled down?

Cell roared, drawing out his new power to display to the lookers-on as Goku pulled himself from the ground, smirking, and teleported behind Cell to hold him against himself, twisting the creature's shoulders back—but Cell chortled, disappeared, and subjected Goku to the same. From the hold, Goku charged a _ki_ blast in his hands, twisting his wrist covertly to fire it through Cell, who leapt back. He grunted as he tapped into Piccolo's powers, and Goku could feel his power drop slightly as the hole healed and the blood, its odd consistency, stopped flowing out. As it healed, though, Cell's eyes widened, and he clutched at his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, midsection apparently convulsing.

"Now!" came Piccolo's distant call from below, and short moments later Gotenks joined Goku in the air, laughing. "Do it!" he called.

"Yeah, yeah," Gotenks chortled. "Calm your purple little pants down. I've got this!" He charged a disk in his hand—a ring—and threw it, watching as it settled neatly around Cell. "Ringer!" he cheered and pumped his fist in the air, and the ring collapsed onto Cell, encircling him ever tighter until his eyes bulged. Coughing violently, Cell struggled to push the ring from himself, and felt his hands singe. A small body erupted from his throat and plummeted to the ground.

Immediately, Gotenks was distracted—his eyes narrowed, and his upper lip lifted in disgust at the being as it pulled itself to its feet. "You," he hissed, and then cracked his knuckles, "or should I say, _one of you_." The young copy of Vegeta growled. "I doubt you'll put up much of a fight on your lonesome, hm?" He chuckled a little. The Vegeta burst from the ground, and landed a solid punch to Gotenks' gut, the fusion too surprised at his speed to move. "Shit," he muttered. Catching his breath, Gotenks smirked. "All right. Let's see if you can take this!" Focusing, he began powering up.

"You'll use up all your time!" Piccolo shouted from below, but Gotenks was deaf to his words. The boy soared across the sky, and the young Vegeta followed.

Cell huffed, recovering from the grip of the ring as it faded away from him. Goku smirked, and took up his usual stance. He was beginning to feel the strain on his body from the triple-ascended form, and Cell seemed worn, too—but it was beginning to seem unlikely that he would be able to finish it on his own. Before Cell could attack, he dropped his pose and flickered out of the form, back to his usual state. "Hey, Vegeta!" he called. "Wanna switch off like we did with Buu?"

"Goku!" Piccolo answered before Vegeta would speak. "We'd best attack him all at once!"

"Aw, but—"

"You agreed," the Namekian reminded him.

"Don't be foolish!" Vejata added, and Goku winced.

Cole hopped up to Piccolo. "Think I could try 'im?"

"Hardly."

"I can do the fuse thing—"

"Goten and Trunks are elsewhere."

"Whaddabout—whaddabout you?" she cocked an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Just 'cause I'm a kid don't mean I can't fight!"

"Our body types are far too different," he muttered, imagining what a mess such a fusion would be. "Besides, you're not well-practiced—it would be a huge risk. If you messed up—"

"But I wanna try it!" she whined, glancing first at Vegeta, who narrowed his eyes, and then at Vejata. "Even if it was with the stupid bitch of a queen."

"Hell no," Vejata spat. But Piccolo arched one brow, thoughtful.

"Your heights aren't so different..." he muttered. "You're both Saiyajin...and if the fusion fails, none of our key fighters will be out of commission." Cole blew him a raspberry and Vejata lowered her gaze, frowning.

"Maybe you'll come out lookin' as young as me," Shallot grinned. Vejata punched her halfheartedly, growling. In her time in Hell, Shallot hadn't aged—looked not a day older than she had when she'd died some twenty years before.

"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered. "We age so slowly. I hardly look older than you..."

Shallot just laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Vegeta...but I see them wrinkles. You worry too much an' don't fight enough, I'd bet." She glanced up and down the woman, "Tho', you sure got some more muscle since last I saw you."

"Look here," Cole stepped forward, nudging one finger against Vejata's chest, "you killed my dad an' I'll _still _fuse with you, I wanna try so bad, got it? So stop being such a stuck-up bitch an' _do it_."

"Fuck—whatever. Fine," she growled, giving Piccolo a sidelong glare. "I'll do it."

...

"Told you ya wouldn't last long," Gotenks grinned, gripping the Vegeta by his shoulders. His expression darkened. "But the real question is, should I kill you?"

The Saiyajin struggled silently.

"I could do like you did," he spoke quietly, "maybe rip off your leg, or maybe grab two of your fingers and split your arm up the middle."

He struggled harder.

"I could do it quick." Gotenks released the Saiyajin. "I could let you go." The Vegeta was frozen in place, shocked. "But you're not good like I am," he finished. "And you've killed lots of people. I doubt we can trust you." In a blink, he held the Vegeta against himself again. "Yeah, maybe this is really the best way," his hands wandered up to the Saiyajin's head. "Nice and quick, and you can't hurt anyone ever again."

The Vegeta's fists clenched, and he braced himself. A searing brightness from behind, he thought, was his end—but he turned around as the feeling of hands against his head faded.

"Shoot," Trunks muttered. "Goten, we were gonna..." The other boy shivered and nodded, and they turned to look the copy in the eye. Were the same age? But how many deaths had this Vegeta put on his list throughout his life? Was he better than the others—was he worse? Was he the one who had killed one of them? How had the fusion between Vegeta and Vejata killed this one?

"So do it," the Vegeta spoke, finally—and Trunks shuddered at hearing his father in the boy's voice. Would the Vegeta he knew have been like this if left unchecked?

"But I thought if somebody dies when they're already dead, they're gone forever?" Goten muttered, glancing at Trunks.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Vejata didn't want the other chick to die."

"You don't have it in you," the copy smirked a little, his voice wild, its accent making the words nearly unintelligible. "You were a better warrior—when you were one person."

Goten shook his head vigorously, but Trunks nodded. "It's not the same, to be a good warrior and a good person," he answered. "Not always." He steeled his gaze. "I wanna be a great fighter, but I don't wanna be like—"

"Your father," the Vegeta's smirk widened.

"Like he used to be."

"What he _is_."

"No. Y'know what? No—he cares about me, and Mom, and—and he's better now. And—and even Vejata—she's even—I mean—they did awful things—but—" he balled his fists. "There's good in my dad."

"Not enough."

"He's a hero."

"But not you. He would have killed me by now." The copy crossed his arms. "But you can't—so—your turn."

"No!" Goten shouted. "Heroes don't—they're—I—"

"I live," his eyes widened, "you die."

Goten gasped as he saw a familiar gleam in the copy's eyes, and his next breath refused to move past his throat. This—this was the one who had killed him. He closed his eyes, not sure what to do, and waited. He felt warmth wrapping around him, and tried not to try to work out whether it was a kinder presence, or a sheet of his own blood—or worse. But the arms that wrapped around his shoulders held him, panicked breathing of someone beside him pounded into his eardrum, nervous fingers curled around his upper arm, nearly digging in, and a familiar pulse comforted him.

"Like hell he will," someone snarled from behind them. Trunks held Goten so that he continued to face away from the scene, and from the corner of his eye he saw a bright light, felt a crackling heat, heard a truncated scream. The boys turned around to see the woman as she pulled herself into a confident stance, arms crossed. She eyed them for a moment—and Trunks knew that Vejata was a part of this being, the gaze somehow apologetic. The first time she'd fused with someone, it had led to— "You boys can't wait for somebody to save you all the time," she muttered, eyes glimmering with condescension as she turned away. "I'm going back to the _real _fight, now."

"Should we—" Trunks started.

"Don't fight," she asserted solemnly, before bursting into a grin again. "You can't handle it, anyway."


	13. 13

"Shit," Shallot muttered. "That's a powerful Namekian."

"Of course you'd think so," the prince answered, eyes following the fight. He had fought Cell—for a while. But Goku had insisted on cutting in again, and he had obliged. Another Vegeta had tumbled from Cell's body, but the fusion between Vejata and Cole had taken care of it—and soared off elsewhere without explanation. Vegeta noticed that she had ended up near his son—and that Vegeta, too, was dead now. From what he could remember of the time he'd fought them, fused with the woman who was herself a copy of him—and the memories were few, and fuzzy—they were not much on their own. That was how they'd beaten them all—besides the last one.

Now Piccolo was fighting what had come up from Cell's body almost immediately after the young copy. He'd thought it was Freeza at first, but no—just something like him. Perhaps Cell had thought it to be Freeza, too, but would such a being even be worth Cell's effort? Maybe pickings in Hell were slim. The prince had not spent long in Hell, but was not surprised that no one had caught on to the creature's plot.

In any case, Cell was getting weaker. Vegeta sidestepped as Goku slid along the ground past him, pulling himself up and breathing deeply. "Man," the Saiyajin grinned, "he sure has gotten tougher. Learned some new stuff, too." He glanced up as Goten and Trunks came soaring back, apparently dazed, with the fused woman he'd been calling Cojata leading them. Goku frowned as Cojata charged after Cell without a word, stealing his fight away from him. "What happened?" Goku turned to the boys.

Goten shook his head and glanced at Trunks. "We almost killed 'im," he said in a small voice, and Trunks nodded. "The Vegeta. It was...scary."

"Oh," Goku tilted his head, "but he's killed tons of other people, y'know? Did he seem like he was nice deep down?"

They shook their heads.

"So—so it's okay, you coulda—"

"No," Goten muttered. "Nuh-uh."

"Is she Vejata and Cole?" Trunks asked, glancing up.

"Yup," Shallot grinned, "Ain't she somethin'?"

"Not compared to us," Trunks crossed his arms, but he faltered, and turned back to his father. "I'm not gonna fight, dad...I'm...I don't wanna...not right now, you gotta..."

Vegeta nodded, placing a hand against his son's shoulder. "Good." He closed his eyes. "Don't do something you'll regret." The boy nodded. He leapt as Piccolo flew past them, cape whipping in the wind. As the Namekian landed, he threw the cape off.

"Another one of these things," he motioned to another Vegeta.

"Allow me," Vegeta stepped forward.

Goku threw his hands in the air. "Hey! Whaddabout me?"

"Go back to fighting Cell," the prince shrugged. "It looks like Cogeta needs some help," he rolled his eyes as a small earthquake shook the ground, and the woman slowly pulled herself from the crater.

"You mean Co_ja_—"

"Naw, he's right!" Shallot interrupted. "Her name's _Vegeta_. Not that stupid one you guys have."

"She ain't no Vegeta to me," Goku frowned and turned away, ascending as he neared the fight. He glanced back for a moment and veered toward the Vegeta.

"Yeesh," Shallot shrugged and glanced at Vegeta. "Now tell me if I'm wrong, but you ain't exactly leaps an' bounds diff'rent than her, are you? Like you ain't no saint neither, right? I just figured—"

The princed cocked an eyebrow and began to speak in protest—but paused. "You know what she did?"

"Huh?"

"To Kakarrot?"

"Sorta," she shrugged. "But more like, I know what she did t' me."

Vegeta furrowed his brows.

"It's like this—we grew up together. An', y'know, helped each other out, through the kinda stuff that bothers kids, people dying an' stuff. Ain't nobody was closer than us two, 'specially later on," she winked, and Vegeta's nose wrinkled. "Then I get just a nudge stronger'n her, an', well the King didn't like it one bit tha' we were so close anyway, an' I guess it was a good enough excuse to him to try t' talk Vegeta into killin' me." She frowned. "I was right there outside a' the room when he was talking 'bout it to her. I was sure she was gonna tell 'im no. She was prob'ly strong enough to kill him then. It sounded all like she didn't wanna, but—I left 'fore it was over. I couldn't listen."

Vegeta snorted.

"Next day we met up t' spar." She lowered her gaze. "I knew what was comin' soon's I saw her." When she lifted her eyes to meet the prince's again, they were blazing. "_Shit_, you love somebody for near twenty years an' _that's _what y' get?" Her fists clenched. "I wasn't gonna kill her like the King thought I was. I was close enough t' her t' see the King t' know ruling's a shit job. An' she knew it." Shallot's eyes widened. "She _knew _it."

"You should have expected it," he spat, but his expression softened even as her features grew angrier. "A man named Nappa served beneath me for just as long. He proved to be insufficient in battle against Kakarrot—I killed him. I doubt if you found him and spoke with him in Hell that he'd tell you anything other than that he'd have expected nothing less. And he—that's when I thought he was the last Saiyajin alive, short of Kakarrot."

"That's different."

"How so?"

"—Unless you an' he fucked in the showers after you sparred," she finished, and Vegeta's eyes widened, ears and cheeks blazing red. "And, you know, all that other mushier stuff."

"Well—"

"Besides, I'll bet you were fixing on taking up Kakarrot as your new lackey guy, if he was stronger'n your other. Me, I was th' strongest. Now there's that shrimp girl stronger'n me since I've been gone."

"Bit too young, I think," Vegeta muttered under his breath. Shallot snorted with laughter, but grew more solemn as the prince continued to speak. "Kakarrot has every right to be angry. Your woman crossed a line with what she did to him."

"One that you ain't crossed?"

He seemed to think back. "No."

"Well, whatever," she rolled her eyes. "I ain't exactly pleased about it neither. Really, I'm surprised," she leaned in, "she ain't so mean, y'know, as she likes t' act."

"I'm trying to watch the fight," Vegeta snapped. "You should, too."

"Can't," she grumbled. "Can't see a damn thing."

The prince smirked. "Right. Good time to learn." His eyes seemed to glimmer, and Shallot shook her head.

"Oh, no," she warned, lifting her hands defensively, "uh-uh."

"You'll see him coming. He's too strong _not _to sense, even for the likes of you."

"I get the feelin' y' don't _get_—"

His lips pulled back. "Oh, I won't let you die. Now go fly out there yourself, or I'll throw you."

"Goddammit, you're _just like her_!" she blew Vegeta a raspberry. "If you let me die you're gonna get _so _much hell—"

"Ahem," a new voice spoke up, and the two of them glanced to the right to see a red _oni_ holding a clipboard. "Yes, you with the halo, you'll need to come with me. Uh, you ought to be in Hell right now."

"What if I don't?" she stuffed her arms over her chest. "Huh?"

"Mm," the _oni_ readjusted his glasses, "well, er, it might get a bit ugly. There are quite a few fellows in Heaven who are more than strong enough to drag you back by whatever means necessary. This would just be a lot nicer, and," he scratched his head with his pencil, "er, well, you won't get put down into the nastier part of Hell, see."

"Whatever," Shallot rolled her eyes. "Fine." She turned to the others. "Hope you don't fuck it up too bad. Seems you've got the upper hand on this guy." She stuck her tongue out in disgust. "Anywho, I sure hope I don't see 'im in Hell ever again."

"Oh," the _oni_ cleared his throat, "um, well, as soon as we get this business with this," he glanced over his clipboard, "Cell character worked out, we'll be keeping an eye of him. You needn't worry."

"Thank the gods for that one." She glanced at Vegeta. "Tell Vegeta where I went. I'm sure I'll see her later." The prince shrugged, snorting, and Shallot turned to the boys, who nodded. "You whelps are awful strong. I'd say you do the Saiyajin proud." Her tail whipped around energetically, and she smirked, stepping up beside the _oni_. "Arright. Let's go."

...

Goku disposed of the Vegeta quickly, and reached Cell just in time to watch the fusion split. Piccolo had joined—deflected a blast from Cole as she tumbled away from Vejata and glanced at Goku, smirking. "I've got an idea, Son."

"I think I know what it is," he grinned. "Hey, you wanna _senzu_ first?"

"It may help," he reached out his hand to take one from the Saiyajin. "I'll step back here."

"I see you're back for some more," Cell chuckled, coming to a stop before Goku. "Certainly your team is more resilient than before. Then again, you've been ganging up on me."

"Well," Goku cracked his neck, "I guess you have lots a' people in you helping you out, too." He smirked. "Or maybe not as many now. Seems t' me you're not quite _so _strong."

Cell's smirk faltered, and his hands twitched. "Yes, well, we'll see. I'd say I'm still far too much for you."

"Dunno," Goku grinned. "We'll see."

Cole dragged herself up. "That was awesome!" she grinned. "I wanna do it again!"

"Not for another hour," Piccolo spoke quietly, two fingers held carefully near his forehead. "You should go farther away—go find Trunks and Goten." Vejata gave a quick glance at Piccolo, raising her eyebrows as she tried to decide what she was doing. As she stretched her senses to feel his power, she smirked a little.

"What's this?" the prince spoke, alighting nearby and motioning to Piccolo's stance.

"How we killed Raditsu," Piccolo spoke quietly. "Only this time, I'd prefer Son not die. At the very least, we can knock someone else from Cell this way."

Vegeta nodded. "And Kakarrot's distracting him?"

"Yes."

The prince glanced at Vejata. "Well, it looks like you may be useful yet."

"I saved your son," she spoke quietly, challenging him. Vegeta frowned and turned to watch Goku as he swung punches at Cell. Cell was dodging them—but barely. However, he seemed to have something up his sleeve as he chortled, grabbing Goku's wrist and quickly twisting, throwing him against the ground and firing a series of _ki_ blasts into him. "Kakarrot's not holding up so well."

"He should have taken a _senzu_," Vegeta spat, leaping over to where the other Saiyajin had fallen. Vejata followed, and as she reached the small crater, it became apparent what Cell had been chuckling about—from him came a series of smaller versions of himself, a bluer color that blended into the sky, though less as it darkened with clouds on the horizon.

"They're stronger than the last time," Goku remarked, standing. "Huh. One, two...three of 'em. Then with Cell, it's..." He glanced toward Cell. "Four against three? Now that ain't fair!"

"There are four of you—what about Piccolo?" he called down.

"He ain't fightin' right now!"

"Ah well," Cell laughed. "I guess you'll have to fight his for him, then."

The smaller Cells crept around the three of them, and they found themselves with their backs toward each other. These Cells were, certainly, stronger then they had been the last time Goku had seen them; he was certain. Vejata powered up, and the others followed suit. Goku glanced briefly toward the queen—she was focused entirely outward. Her eyes moved quickly, calculating, for she was the weakest of them—had the most to worry about. Vejata's tail was unwrapped from her waist, and twitched as the miniature Cells drew nearer. "So you've seen these things before?"

"Yeah. They're pretty tough. Thing is, I could beat 'em all easy enough, but not all at once. If y' get too far from where me or Vegeta can help you out, one of 'em will pick you off. You'll die." His voice wavered as he realized it—that this time, he had the power over the queen's life. It scared him; a dark voice reminded him that it wouldn't be such a shame if she did die.

She glanced back at him, and they locked eyes. Goku's were shaking with conflict, and Vejata was certain she had caused it. "I'll stay close, then, and do what I can," she muttered. "I know you'll keep me safe." She felt Goku shiver, and his eyes resumed scanning the terrain, carefully watching Cell himself. Goku stole a quick glance toward Vegeta. Right now, he was alive, and right now, if he failed, Vejata would be dead. She'd wronged him; she'd more than wronged him. He wasn't ready to forget it. But he couldn't let it distract him—he would defend her on the battlefield like any other ally, and deal with her later. As the small Cells leapt toward the group of Saiyajin, their backs pressed closer together and they braced themselves. Cell himself charged Goku, laughing, lacing his fingers together to bring his fists down onto the man's head. Goku lifted his hands to his head, and a blinding flash illuminated the area; leaning back against the others, he grabbed their arms and quickly directed them away while the light faded.

"Dammit, Kakarrot," Vegeta hissed, eyes pressed shut. "Warn us!"

"Sorry!"

"What the hell _was _that?" 

"Can you guys see yet?"

"Barely," they both answered.

"Okay, 'cause they're coming again!" This time he was ready, and focused his energy downward. "Get ready to attack, and then we'll move away!"

"Not like that again, I'd hope," Vegeta muttered.

"Just keep hold of my arms. We can attack and get ourselves away at the same time!"

Vejata curled her fingers, gathering bright purple _ki_ between them to do what she could. Vegeta's attack was more impressive—one flat palm out and aimed and ready. As they each fired at one of the small Cells, Vejata blinked in alarm to find a third beam had joined theirs—from Goku's feet. Cell himself deflected this beam, but two of his small offspring were buried into the ground by the others, and the group of three Saiyajin rocketed away with the extra help of the propulsion from the attacks. The two injured Cells stood, brushed themselves off, and persisted, taking off to approach them again; but they were of minimal concern as Cell himself drew nearer.

"Nice try," he grinned, "or at the very least, creative. But you're going to have to put more power behind it than that!" The third small Cell neared them just as rapidly, and nearly collided with the three—Vejata let go of Goku to grab it and twist its head. It began dropping to the ground.

"I'm not totally useless," she remarked.

"You gotta destroy it all the way," Goku answered, firing a blast at it. "Else it'll just regenerate like Piccolo does." He paused and grinned. "Speakin a' Piccolo—"

Cell blinked, confused at the comment, and his eyes bulged as a drill-like beam burst through him. Vegeta ducked to the side, feeling its heat pass close to his neck. "Got anybody else to spit up?" Goku laughed. Though Cell did not answer, they found out as a being greatly resembling Goku himself flew out and crashed into the ground. The Saiyajin stood, dizzy and wiping ooze and saliva from himself. He coughed. Piccolo gave a quick glance toward the man, and in a blink had him held tightly.

"He's not very powerful, Son," the Namekian remarked. "Do you know him?"

Goku shook his head, and glanced back at Cell, who was struggling to recover from the ordeal as Vegeta repeatedly shot _ki _blasts through the hole each time it tried to close up.

"Kakarrot," the man spoke weakly, head rolling to the side briefly as he lost the strength to hold it up. "Get," he mumbled, "Freeza...get...you're...Kakarrot..."

"What do you want me to do with him?" Piccolo asked.

"He knows my name," Goku muttered.

"Son..." the man's eyes cracked open. "Is this...real...?"

"Did he just say 'son'?" the Saiyajin blinked. He glanced at Cell, who seemed to finally be making headway in regenerating as Vegeta now assisted Vejata in fighting off the two smaller Cells. One was certainly worse for the wear—Vejata reached for it and drove her hand through its throat, tossing it into the air and destroying it with _ki _blasts—not without Vegeta's help. "Yeah," Goku finally answered the man. "Are you my dad or somethin'?" He looked to Piccolo. "Let's keep him here and see what happens after we beat Cell."

"Lord Enma will probably send someone to come get him," Piccolo answered. "But yes—I'll keep him in check until then."

Cell groaned as the hole finally filled in, and glanced around to find none of the smaller Cells surviving. "Well," he crossed his arms. "You certainly are holding up well. Say, Son Goku, would you like to see something interesting?" 

"What kinda interesting?" he blinked.

"A technique I've been working on," his eyes glimmered. "You've seen it before, but not like this. I've perfected it. As is only fitting," his grin widened.

"Yeah?" he blinked and smiled, suddenly excited. "Sure, lessee, then."

"I'd hate to subject you to it first," he laughed, "so you can watch me try it on one of your friends." Before Goku could speak, Cell had grabbed someone from beside him, and appeared farther away. The nervously curling tail that kept brushing up against his calves was still there, which meant—

"I think you know this one, Vegeta," Cell muttered, holding him close. "It took your dear rival away from you. The thing is, now I know just how to recover from it..."

Vegeta could feel the creature's body swelling—both in power and in size. His chest froze for a moment, but then he smirked. "Something you don't know, Cell—I've got a similar one up my sleeve." Calming his pounding heart, he focused his energy inward, and screamed to unleash it, hoping it would work—at the same time as Cell burst.

Goku shielded his eyes from the bright light, ears ringing with the sound of Vegeta's scream. It sounded familiar, somehow—

"Shit," came Vejata's voice from beside him. "He's dead."

"They're both dead," Goku muttered, shocked that his voice could actually leave his throat. It came alongside a distant rumbling of thunder from the dark clouds as they closed in; he wondered if his words were even audible. He wondered if the flash had been anything more than lightning. The thought was appealing and he was almost convinced of it; the rain that began falling was, maybe, Vegeta's reassuring fingers on his shoulder.

"You didn't feel that?" Vejata asked him, surprised.

"What?"

"From what I can tell," she murmured, "they both tried to blow themselves up. But Prince Vegeta was beaten to the punch. He was dead before his power could affect Cell."

Goku wondered if this was true—if Vejata was somehow better at deciphering these things, or if he simply hadn't noticed it because he hadn't wanted to. She had no reason to lie, he supposed. "So..."

"Prince Vegeta is dead. Cell is alive...and coming back."


	14. 14

Goku and Vejata spun around in shock as a blur whipped over their shoulders, as if its afterimage would be easier to see than the object itself. Fierce shouts battled the thunder for their ears, and blinding strobes rivaled the lightning in their eyes. The point where Cell was regrowing from his core was swathed with billowing smoke.

Trunks huffed to catch his breath, eyes fierce as his hair stood on end, gold and sparking. "_Bastard!_" he shouted into the dusty clouds. His fingers twitched as he continued to stare, eyes darting about as the dust settled.

"Trunks," Goku spoke quietly, shivering as the boy's rage quivered through the air, bringing the atmosphere more tense potential than the charge of the storm in the air. But at the sound of someone clearing his throat, the man turned to see a blue _oni_.

"Excuse me," he seemed to be standing nearest to Vejata, glancing her over. "Lord Enma has requested your presence. Now, given that you are presently alive, it is not within our power to retrieve you by force," he grabbed his pencil, and Vejata watched as its tip hovered over a sheet on the clipboard, "but, Vegeta, Lord Enma has strongly advised it." He glanced over the sheet and gulped, removing his glasses to wipe them off in disbelief and gulping again as what he saw on it remained unchanged. "I would strongly advise it, too," his eyes were wide as he looked back up to her.

Vejata watched Trunks as he collapsed to the ground, chest heaving with quiet sobs, and Goten as he rushed to the boy's side. Her gaze wandered to Goku, who felt her eyes on him and returned her neutral expression. Their eyes locked for one moment, and another—she thought to look away, but couldn't. "Kakarrot," she finally managed, quietly. "I guess you never did me any wrong."

He didn't speak, eyebrow twitching in concern as he wondered what she was about to do. Wouldn't she follow the _oni_ like it asked? "Yeah," he finally agreed quietly, not sure of what else to say.

She seemed to be absorbed in further thought, and the _oni _cleared his throat. Neither took note of it. "Maybe I'll see you again."

He shrugged. Was he supposed to be mad at her—had Cell been going for her, with his attack, but grabbed Vegeta instead? She was being so nice, so—civil. Her eyes didn't glimmer with the malice imprinted against him, distant though they were. Where was her mind? It was not on hurting him, anymore. Had it ever been? The thought made his mouth bitterer as his lack of forgiveness persisted even with that idea in mind. "We can...bring your friend back if you want," he offered weakly.

"Funny," she smirked a little, turning away. "I was thinking the same."

"Yeah?"

"When Prince Vegeta comes back," she started toward the _oni_, "remind him not to do anything too stupid."

"Usually he's the one reminding me," Goku cracked a smile, even as he sensed Cell recovering again nearby. He heard the hushed tones of Piccolo, Goten, and Trunks discussing something, and the rougher voice of the man who was, perhaps, his father. As he glanced back at the group, the _oni _seemed to take notice, and scribbled something on his clipboard, narrowing his eyes at the man with the halo. Goku hoped the _oni_ wouldn't take the man away—not yet. If this guy really was his father, he wanted to try fighting him, and maybe talk to him. "Aren'tcha going?" he stole a nervous glance at Cell as the being slowly approached.

"I am." She turned away, and she and the _oni_ drifted into the sky faster than she could follow its features. And then, they were somewhere else entirely.

...

"Oh, good," Enma seemed deeply frustrated as the _oni_ arrived with Vejata. "I was worried she'd put up a fight."

"None at all," he bowed and shuffled off. "Thankfully."

"What do you want?" she crossed her arms, glancing around the room. Giant desk—giant everything. Especially giant man who towered before her, and she recognized him from not so long ago, the first time she'd been sent to Hell.

"I see that you're alive," he grumbled. "Those balls screw everything up. I knew I should have listen to those Kais and sent someone down to stop that hullabaloo before it started." There was a snort from across the room, and Vejata noticed that Vegeta stood leaning against the desk. She wasn't surprised that she hadn't noticed him upon first glance—the desk towered over him so.

"Well, get up here," he pounded on the desk. "You need to work this mess out. This other Vegeta has been no help at all, and the list keeps changing."

"The others died for good," the prince grumbled from beneath. "That's why."

Vejata shot him a puzzled glare, but drifted up to Enma's desk. He brandished a list in front of her. "See, now, I was just about to send Vegeta to Hell when I remembered that _you _used to be in Hell not too long ago yourself, and had this exact same list of merits and sins." He kicked at the base of his desk, making Vegeta jump. "Now I know you two aren't the same person, because _one _of you has helped save the universe before, from that awful pink thing."

Vejata glanced at the list—it was long. She couldn't imagine how it had looked with the sins of the other six Vegetas spelled out. It seemed that one or two of them had evaded Cell in Hell, though—for neither she nor the prince had blown up her own planet, yet it remained on the list. "So what do you want?" she asked.

"Well, ordinarily I'd just say he'd be off to Hell just as you or any of those others that he claims are—or were—on this list—but if we've got someone as powerful as Vegeta down there—him, not you—it might just cause much more of a mess than I want to hire guys to clean up. Besides, I might rather retain him here until I can decide what to do with him." Enma's large mouth curved into a frown. "After the last fiasco here in the afterlife, I, frankly, don't want to take my chances with anyone who might better serve us than rot away to nobody in Hell."

The queen looked at Vegeta, who seemed to be ignoring them. She wondered what he was playing at—maybe he was just waiting for someone to wish him back. "Cell's still alive down there," she muttered. "So you know."

"Well, when Son sends him back here, we've chipped away a nice little cell," he chuckled, "for him in Hell."

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and then letting her breath seep back out of her nostrils. "I think I have your solution."

"Well, take my job and let me go on vacation," he rolled his eyes. "Just tell me which of these sins are yours so I can straighten this out."

"My solution is easier." Now Vegeta was watching her carefully, though he hadn't moved.

"All right," he challenged. "Let's hear it."

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice; Enma drew himself up nearer as she spoke. "This seems like a lot of red tape," she muttered. "This bureaucracy shit. Well, look. See that list you have there? Set it on one side." He did so, eyeing her suspiciously.  
"Now grab a new leaf of paper. Set it on the other." Enma frowned, digging through his desk for a fresh sheet. "You're not past bending a few rules—if it's for everyone's good."

Enma's eyes narrowed further. "Watch it," he warned. "I doubt you have the slightest idea of 'everyone's good.'"

"I think I do," she answered quietly. She couldn't see Vegeta from where she was, anymore. "I hear that Prince Vegeta has changed quite a bit since he started living with the Earthlings, and the man you call Son Goku." Enma nodded. "In fact, he doesn't seem nearly as bad as that list implies. All he cares about anymore is his family," she spoke with derision, but even as she did so knew how poor a mask it was. "Me, I've got nothing there, back where he lives. Well—not much." The man's beard ruffled as he exhaled heavily, waiting for her to reach her point. "I think he'll keep getting better. And here's the thing—you don't want the both of us in Hell. In case it's not clear to you, he and I don't get along. It's in your best interest as well as mine—" she cut herself off and strode over to the list, covered with scribbles of names of people she'd killed and of people she'd never known. "Write 'Queen' up above 'Vegeta' on this list." She strode over to the other, lowering her voice even further. "Write 'Prince Vegeta' on this one. And put all that fluffy universe-saving shit on it."

"You're saying I should send this man straight to _Heaven_?" he boomed. "Without a single—"

Vejata swore she heard a choking noise from beneath, and grumbled. "Whatever. Yes. But look, there's something else. You'd agree I can't do a damn thing to help bring Cell back here, I'm sure—and it's plenty clear you want me back in Hell." She glanced toward the gate she'd been lead through the first time. She was sure Shallot was back there by now, maybe waiting on the other side, in Hell, for her. "So I'll give you want you want, but you use my life to send him back to his happy little home," she shrugged toward Vegeta's spot beneath them.

Enma seemed to consider it. "It would solve this damn name overlap once and for all," he mumbled. "But I don't know about sending Vegeta to—"

"Only if he doesn't screw up in the rest of his lifetime," she reminded him. "His sins would be his from the second you wrote that paper on." She shrugged. "Not exactly a free ticket."

"Seems like a lot of good for him and none for you," Enma's gaze bore down upon her.

"Yes. I have a request."

He rolled his eyes. "_Here _it comes..." he muttered.

Vejata glanced behind her, and now Vegeta was on the desk with them, watching. Sputtering a few hissed insults at him, she hovered up to Enma until she nearly sat in his ear. "When I'm thrown through that godforsaken soul-cleaning machine—whenever that is," she crossed her arms, whispering, "send me back into the living world as an Earthling."

He blinked. "Why?"

"Nice trees," she answered sarcastically. "Look at Vegeta. Earth has somehow subdued his Saiyajin nature." She smirked a little. "What is the power of that place? I want to feel it."

"You know," Enma grasped his pencil, considering the sheets before him. "I could tell you I would but send you back as whatever I want."

Vejata chuckled. "I'm confident you won't."

"It's not such a big request," he sighed, and seemed to realize what he was doing. "I really need a vacation..."

"One more thing."

"Really—"

"Shallot. You brought her back to Hell not so long ago."

He seemed to dig back into his mind. "Right, wouldn't shut her mouth."

"Her too."

Enma glanced down at the list of sins and scribbled a note at the bottom, and then turned his attention to the top. "Fine. But only because it means you won't be bothering me again."

"How do I..." she started to ask, glancing toward Vegeta.

"Patience!" he nearly roared, scribbling on the sheets.

Vejata took a few steps nearer to Vegeta, who evaluated her with calculating eyes.

"All right," Enma spoke again. "Here goes nothing." He cracked his knuckles. "May take a second; I'm a bit rusty."

"What the hell is going on?" Vegeta glanced away, crossing his arms. His eyes widened as something seemed to lift from him—his halo. Through his temporarily hazy vision, he watched as it appeared over Vejata's identical form.

She twisted around to face him. "Don't fuck this up." He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to snap at her as she turned away, but was interrupted by her voice. "Assuming you'd prefer to be able to fight Kakarrot for all eternity, or some nice fuzzy shit like that."

Vegeta blinked, taken aback. "Why—"

"I never want to see your ugly ass again," her lips pulled back to reveal her teeth in a smirk.

"Fine by me," he returned the expression. "Given that your ass is uglier."

"At least I've got a tail," she prepared to follow an _oni_ to the entrance to Hell. "I ain't some human wannabe."

Vegeta opened his mouth to laugh, but collapsed to the ground, unconscious, before the first cackle left his throat.

...

He woke up in a new body, already on the battlefield. From where he was, he thought he saw two Gokus—one being restrained by Piccolo as the other fought Cell—but he shook the idea away, and as he approached, found Piccolo holding no one and Goten glancing off into the distance.

"Vegeta!" Goku chirped, whirring past as he dodged a blast from Cell. He paused. "Vejata said to tell you not to be stupid!" The Saiyajin blinked. "Where is she?"

The prince shrugged. "Hell."

"Look," Goku swept his foot around to trip his opponent, still turning to speak with Vegeta, "it's getting kinda boring, fighting Cell, only I dunno if I've got it in me to kill him, y'know? I'm real tired."

"And that's an hour," Piccolo glanced at the sun. Perhaps that was what the Namekian had been discussing with the boys earlier. 

"Arrright!" Goten and Trunks pumped their fists in the air. Trunks turned to his father.

"Dad, I wanna beat this guy. For what he did to you."

Vegeta ruffled his hair, not sure of what to say. "Let me help you," he decided. 

"Me too!" Goku grinned.

"Can I?" Cole begged.

"It's been less than an hour since you were fused," Piccolo shook his head. "And anyway, Trunks and Goten are both stronger than you." He smirked as she fumed, throwing a few punches through the air.

"Whatever! I'll show them!" One of her punches smacked against Cell as he rocketed toward Goku again, and this time Piccolo and Goku both threw _ki_ blasts at him. Vegeta concluded that Cell must have been substantially weakened—whether by the blast or by simply having spit up everyone he'd absorbed. Certainly by now he wasn't much stronger than he had been before he died those years ago.

"Let's fuse, Goten!"

"Yeah!"

"You wanna fuse, Vegeta?" Goku threw his arm around the man's shoulder.

"Absolutely not," he hissed.

"We wanna show you something," Goten bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Our secret weapon!" Trunks agreed, falling into position. "I think you'll like it!" He gave his father a quick thumbs-up. "Since you taught me part of it!"

In a flash, they fused, and Gotenks chuckled, tossing a few warm-up blasts at Cell. He regenerated each time—slowly but surely—and the boy turned to his fathers. "Are you ready?" he grinned, pretending to stretch. "Audience participation is encouraged!" He fell into a stance that was vaguely familiar to both Goku and Vegeta. Gotenks focused carefully on Cell, who seemed to be considering attacking the others. "Big Bang—_Kame-Hame-HA!_"

The two Saiyajin turned to one another and grinned. Each fired his own attack, and for the brightness of it none of them could guess when Cell had disintegrated. Cole tossed her own potshots in, whooping at the grandness of the explosion as the beams finally seemed to burst into themselves.

"In Hell, huh?" rang Goku's voice from beside Vegeta, and the prince turned to face him.

"Yes."

He glanced into the sky, considering something even as he pulled Goten into a one-armed hug. "Should...should we, I dunno, wish her back or somethin'?"

Vegeta laughed, first quietly and then uproariously. At a loss for what else to do, Goku joined him. Sometimes, Vegeta just knew things, and sometimes, Goku knew better than to ask about it. So he grinned and asked instead, "Wanna spar tomorrow?" And then everyone else was laughing, too.

END 

...

NOTE: Hey, guys. Thanks so much for reading this story. (And to think I was originally going to end with Red Window!) You have no idea how much I appreciate that you took the time to read it this far. I'd like to ask you to do one more thing for me – leave me a comment telling me what you thought. It needn't be long; a simple "I liked it" or "it sucked" will suffice if that's all you have to say. I want to know who's been reading it, and what you guys think... I don't care if it's a month after it's been finished, or a year, or more. (If anyone's still reading it then.)

Special thanks to everyone who reviewed as the stories progressed. You motivated me and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside~

I have plans for another fic in the works, but right now I'm really busy with school, so I don't know when it will start. Additionally, I am considering making a fancomic adaptation of this (Red Window/Anaugust Gold/Black and White). I don't know if it will happen, but if it does, it will be on my deviantArt account, username ShiningMoon. Speaking of which, if you haven't seen yet, on my profile I have links to my drawings based on these stories.

I can't thank you enough!


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